


Sip in the Dark

by vitrifica



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Violence, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mind Control, Slow Burn, You Have Been Warned, Zoldyck Family Drama, all the murder, and stabs, angst too probably, but mmm I love me some slowburn, but no MCD I swear, did I say coffee?, i meant fluff-verse with murder, innuendos galore, like hardcore denial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitrifica/pseuds/vitrifica
Summary: Six years after he left Gon at the World Tree, Killua has been gravitating towards the family business more than he'd like to admit. But that's all about to change on his next mission.Or: The coffee shop AU Killua never asked for. With a huge side of murder.





	1. Chapter 1

Shifting in the rafters, he tenses like a cat waiting for his prey to pass below. In the darkness it’s tempting to use en to sense the target’s exact position, but he knows better. Zetsu is far more useful on the job.

The target in question is taking his sweet time, talking in hushed tones to someone (another boss, or, no, a subordinate from the sounds of it) on his phone. A faint blue light casts menacing shadows around the cramped space as he hisses out instructions.

“Take the package to the train and stand at the south platform.” The broad man huffs and digs around in his pockets. “What do you mean, what station? Yorkshin, what other station do we use?” He pulls out a cigarette.

 _Right on cue_ , Killua thinks.

“You’ll be looking for a guy in shades and a blue ballcap. Yeah, it’s Joules again. Ok. Yes. No. Good. Call me when it’s done.”

With a grunt, the boss clicks the phone shut. Slumping against a tiled wall, he scrapes a hand down his face, lingering on the stubble as he huffs out. The unlit cigarette sticks out from his mouth like a little perch. A matchbook is produced from his shirt pocket as he starts towards the back door-

-when Killua drops on him like a very clingy ton of bricks. Kil’s arm is around his throat in seconds and the larger man thrashes against the store room shelves, trying to knock his assailant off. His hands come up scratching at Killua, searching for an opening, any opening. Flailing his right arm back, he whips Killua in the face. Suddenly, the larger man seizes up, shocked by Killua’s lightning attack.

 _Man, I must be getting rusty_ , Killua thinks, shoving off the dead weight of the mob boss. The body thumps, bouncing once as it hits the cold linoleum floor. Head pounding from the blow the boss had managed to land, he swipes a finger over his nose, feeling for the damp trickle of blood.

He’s always prided himself on being able to take a target like this down silently and quickly, without the use of his nen. Removing a man’s heart was child’s play. Hell, he’d been taught 200 different ways to dispatch a target by the time other children were learning to tie their shoes.

But the client had specified no blood, and they wanted the body intact upon delivery. Which was, annoying, Killua thinks. _At least the money is good._

Wiping his nose clean, he turns back to the task at hand. He searches the shelves, hands passing over oddly shaped jars and weird metal contraptions, coming to rest on a canvas sack that looks _almost_ big enough to fit a body. The strong aroma of coffee beans wafts up towards him as he shakes out the empty bag. _It’ll have to do_.

He folds up the broad man as best he can, pausing to listen carefully before executing a particularly loud fold involving the man’s spine and potentially some ribs, stuffing him ungracefully into the sack. It was late enough for there to be no one left in the building, but you could never be too careful around undercover mob operations like this one. Who knows who might be listening?

Stretching, he prepares to haul his kill to the client and starts dragging the lumpy sack towards the door, pausing just before the exit and squinting out the peephole.

He can hear muffled shouts and machinery, the wet thunk of something hitting metal, then a low hiss and squeak as a garbage truck rolls into view. The garbageman- no, wait, that’s a woman- _yep_ , Killua thinks, _that’s a garbage woman_ \- lets out a whoop as she excitedly calls to her partner. They park

_Oh, hell no._

The PARK their truck right next to the door and proceed to rummage through the bins, showing no signs of leaving anytime soon.

 _Well, fuck that exit_. Killua turns away from the door, dropping the sack unceremoniously in front of it.

Cautiously, he peers out the round window of the swinging double doors leading out of the storeroom. The lights outside are still on, open sign still flickering away, but there are no signs of anyone.

If he could kill the lights, he could theoretically walk right out the front doors.

Smirking at the thought of being so brazen with a kill, he scans the wall, spotting a hook with aprons, the music system, a mop and bucket, and -bingo- a familiar gray electrical box near the back. Opening it, he grins at the column of black switches. He’s about to kill the lights when

DING!

Killua ducks so fast his back cracks with the effort. Bracing against the double doors, he risks a peek.

“Hello? Anybody there? I know it’s late, but the sign said you’re still open…”

Killua recoils as the hulking silhouette of a man leans over the counter, trying to peer into the back.

 _Who the fuck comes in this late?_ The prone lump that was the biggest undercover mob boss this side of the river stares back at Killua from the shadows of the storeroom, offering no answers. He can’t let some rando find him. How unprofessional would that be?

Not that he cared about being professional. Although, it was his family’s main business, and he’d just started carving his way back into it. A slip-up could cost him future clients. Not to mention the disappointment of his father.

Sweating, Killua weighs his options as the unwanted customer dings the bell a couple more times, but at the push of the doors he jumps into action, grabbing an apron off the hook and jamming it over his head while swiping the mop and forcibly backing into whoever just had the gall to try and break into this place’s store room of all places-

“Oh! There is someone here!”

“Yeah, yeah, welcome to- “Killua pauses, searching for the name of the place on his apron- “…Heaven’s Cuppa… _what the fuck kind of undercover business name is that?”_ He cringes and turns to the intruder. “We’re just closing up, what d’ya want?”

They both freeze when he faces the stranger.

“…Killua?!”

He squints at the figure in front of him, snapping up when he recognizes him.

“Gon?”

Killua takes in the familiar tan face, leaner and more grown-up than he remembers it, graced with the shadows of stubble. On reflex, he puts a hand up to his own pale clean-shaven face. Still no five-o-clock shadow, despite it being well past eleven.

He’s thrown off balance as large arms wrap around his sleight frame, spiky black hair brushing past his ear as Gon envelops him in a rib-crushing hug.

He drops the mop.

“KILLUA! I can’t believe it’s you! It’s been forever!”

Killua struggles for breath, shoving his old friend’s surprisingly muscular arms apart. “Uh, yeah, good to see you too, Gon.” He pats him as his lungs are pushed into his spine, wheezing out “Can you give a guy some space?”

“Oh, sorry Killua.” Gon finally loosens his grip and steps back, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t believe- how are you? You’re so much taller!”

Killua leans on his knees, gasping in air, staring at some very well-worn combat boots as he tries to formulate his next sentence.

“I’m… thanks. What’re you doing here?”

Gon’s face scrunches up in confusion, hands gesturing around to the many obvious coffee machines as if that answers anything. “I should be asking you that- since when do you work in a coffee shop?”

Killua freezes, staring down at his apron, and it dawns on him that he has no idea what he’s doing here. The client hadn’t said anything about coffee. His target, may he still be resting in peace in- oh fuck, it was a coffee sack, wasn’t it- couldn’t have seriously used a coffee house as a front.

“Uh, well, you know, just picking up some work, needed the cash, y’know?” Killua leans back against the wall in what he hopes is a casual position, tucking his arms up behind his head. _Nailed it._

Gon stares at him amusedly, smile playing at his lips. “Oh yeah, I guess you can’t really compete at the arena anymore, right?” He hitches his thumb back, pointing through the shop windows to the dark base of Heaven’s Arena. “Although, I didn’t think something like this pays all that well-they must have amazing treats for you to work here!”

Killua’s grin falters, and he wonders if he should tell him the real reason he’s here. He should have known Gon would be at the arena. He just didn’t expect to run in to him, ever again. Not since the World Tree…but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. He steels his face back into what he hopes is a nice smile.

“Ha-ha, yeah, why don’t you be the judge of that. Help yourself.” He nods to where he thinks the cake would be kept.

Gon’s eyes light up at the offer of free food. “Really? For free?”

Killua smirks. “Yeah.” _It’s not like anyone’s going to need it tomorrow._

“Oh man, I just came in for coffee, but this is awesome!” Gon proceeds to swipe open the cabinet of pastries, filling his hands with one of everything, rounding to the other side of the counter to sit. Around a whole doughnut, he sprays out a “Fank-you Killua-kun!”

Killua chuckles, grabbing a chocolate smothered brownie thing topped with what he guesses is a rose made of strawberries for himself. As his teeth sink in to the velvety icing, he can’t help thinking the treats alone might be actually enough to convince him to work here. And, all in all, a coffee house is a brilliant front-he never would have suspected it. His eyes close in bliss, savouring the rich, deep tones of the chocolate, lightened by fresh strawberry and a hint of something spicy.

When he opens them again, Gon is staring at him with a strange look on his face. He tilts his head at him, tempted to point it out and chastise him for being creepy, but loses his chance when Gon shoves a pastry into his face.

“Gon! What the actual fuck!?” Killua splutters through cake, already reaching for ammo behind the counter, ready to counterstrike and wipe that fucker’s smug grin right off his face.

“Ha! That’s for- “he doesn’t get to finish when Killua shoves some creamy concoction at his speaking-hole. Ha. Serves him right. A cupcake lands in his hair and the fight ensues.

The volley continues until a poorly aimed tart smacks against a coffee machine, bringing them both back to their senses.

“Oh no, ha, oh, Killua, we’ve made such a mess for you to clean up” Gon chokes out through laughter, looking around at the colorful smears of cake and icing.

Killua stares down at himself, snickering, then around at the cafe. He’s taken more damage than the shop.

“It’s fine. This place’ll be closed tomorrow anyways.” He chuckles, wiping cake from his hair, pausing before flicking it back at Gon. _Who’s gonna care about a messy shop when their boss is dead?_

He can see Gon has more questions, but he doesn’t want him digging any deeper. Gon can’t know he’s on a very different kind of job. Not now. Not when they’re having fun again.

“So,” he starts, cutting Gon off just as he opens his mouth, “have you been fighting in the arena? Training and stuff?” He leans in across the counter, looking around conspiratorially before whispering “Did you get your nen back?”

Gon stiffens. “I, hah, yeah, I’ve been training with Wing and a few others” he shrugs, “But no luck with the nen. I guess I really meant it when I made that contract.”

He looks sad for a moment, but blinks back up all smiles “So Wing has me training my body instead! If I can’t be strong with nen, I can at least work on other stuff!” Gon flexes as if to prove a point.

Killua frowns, concerned. “I thought, maybe with Nanika, the wish would have fixed that.”

They sit in silence, as unbidden memories of mutants and a hospital bed well up in the space between them.

“I-I’m sorry, Killua.”

Killua shakes the dark thoughts away as the soft words of apology seem to float towards him. He sighs, leaning more heavily into the counter.

“You already apologized for that, Gon. Besides,” he pokes at his face, “friends don’t need to apologize for anything.”

Gon hums at that, smiling down at the counter, eyes flickering between Killua’s face and his own calloused hands. His deep brown eyes glance over his cake-splattered watch and- “OH GOSH IS THAT THE TIME?” His face whips up to Killua’s “I still need coffee!”

Killua pales, pulling back his hand and looking over at the various machines lining the back wall- _one of them has to have coffee in it, right?_  

“Uh, is plain ok?” he asks over his shoulder, frantically pushing random switches until one of the machines spits out a steaming black liquid he thinks resembles coffee. He shoves a to-go cup under the stream, filling it almost all the way up and totally not scalding his hand in the process.

“Yeah, black is good, I need two though, “he rummages in his pockets for change, “uh, here, this should cover them.”

Killua hands him the hot cups, fingers brushing in the transference, and Gon practically sprints to the door. Just before he steps out though, he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Uh, it was really good to see you again, Kil.”

Killua shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, scowling a little at the ground as he mumbles “Yeah. You too, man.” Gon brightens at his words.

“Hey! Now that I know you work right across the street; I can come visit you for treats all the time!” Gon points a finger-gun at him with a coffee in his hand. “See you later, Killua!”

A smile threatens to tug at the corners of his mouth as Gon leaves, and his face feels warmer. _It would be nice, _he thinks _, to see him again._

He shakes his head at the thought, locking the front door and heading back to the store room. That would be stupid. He can’t work here, in a lowly coffee shop. He’s a Zoldyk- and that’s supposed to mean something.

He flicks off the lights, hangs the apron back on it’s hook, and hefts the lumpy sack on his shoulders. The chatter and whine of the dump truck is long gone, and he melts into the shadows of the alleyway with his kill in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I hope you enjoyed that first bit.  
> Shout out to everyone who made it to the end here, to be honest I was a little reluctant to post, but a few glasses of wine later and here we are. Next chapter will be up shortly (give me a day or two to edit). Any likes or comments are greatly appreciated, and, uh, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua's first day in the coffee shop as he tries to get hired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha he's back for more! As are you! Thanks for reading ;3

“So, you want to work at Heaven’s Cuppa? Let’s see here”

Killua had spent the better part of the morning cobbling together a resume, getting Alluka to help him with the details. They had made up most of the positions, brainstorming what his actual marketable skills were for the service industry, with just about everything ending up on the sheet of paper across from him now.

He ducks his head absently, pressing back into the squeaky plastic chair offered to him in the dim, grimy back office of the coffee shop, nails digging little crescents into his palms while the imposing but squat lady across the desk assesses his supposed life’s accomplishments.

Well, none of what his family might consider accomplishments.

“Skilled horseback rider, compulsive gambler, bakery school graduate?” She pauses, scanning down the page, “And only at 19, huh?

Killua frowns. He didn’t remember putting those in, but heck, he could work with it. “Uh, yeah. I’ve travelled a lot. Take whatever job is available.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie-you didn’t need pay to call it experience, right? And he figured Alluka’s approval of his baking counted for something.

“Why coffee, of all things? You seem like you’d enjoy something a little, well, faster paced.”

Killua stares at her, not sure exactly how to answer. “Well,” he starts, scratching a hand through his pale hair, “I guess I’m trying something different. A change in pace could be nice, I think. And, I do really like coffee.”

The dark woman squints at him from over his resume, scanning his face before seeming to come to a decision.

“Alright. As it stands, we do need some extra help- some weirdos broke in last night and had a food fight.” Killua steels his face at this, hoping he doesn’t have a tell, although Illumi says he does.

She leans back in the chair, folding her arms behind her head, seemingly satisfied. “Go see Katzo, they’ll show you what needs doing. We’ll talk about a job once the place is running properly again.” Swivelling her chair in dismissal, she waves Killua out the door.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you, uh,” he glances quickly at the nameplate as he bows out of the room, “Gingakai-san. I won’t let you down.”

He hears the older woman click her tongue and mutter something about “kid’s these days” as he rounds the corner. Trying not to think too hard about it, he turns to the store front, ready to face the sticky floors and half-dried cake cemented to walls he knows he left there last night.

 

\---

 

What he isn’t expecting to find is a near-sparkling café, bustling with customers and a barrage of pleasant aromas. In the center of it all, a lanky red-headed boy in need of a haircut whirls between customers and coffee machines, laughing and joking as he carts wobbling piles of plates and mugs between tables and the main counter.

At the register, a much more reserved woman calmly takes orders and punches in sales. There is something very calming about her presence, and it shows in the faces of customers, who come away happy and relaxed, coffee in their hands.

Killua sees a gap in the line and takes the opportunity to approach the calm lady- does she seriously have purple hair? He supposes he shouldn’t judge, what with the shock of white that he has.

“Uh, excuse me, Katzo-san?” the lady turns as he taps her arm “Gingakai-san told me to ask you what needs doing around here.”

She smiles sweetly at him, only, did the corner of her eye just twitch?

“One second, I’ll get him for you.” Killua winces at his mistake, about to apologize when she opens her mouth.

“HEY! KATZO! WE’VE GOT A HELPER HERE!”

Killua ears are still ringing when the gangly red-head stumbles in behind the counter. “Thank the gods! We are so behind right now; you don’t even know.”

He grabs Killua by the shoulders as his voice rises in a panic. “I need to make more cake and we’re behind on the drinks, but you probably don’t know how to do any of that, and the floors still need to be done properly, and there are tables that still need clearing, and people are coming in now and- hello sirs! How are you today?”

The change in tone from his tirade to greet the men in suits throws him, and Killua looks over at the purple-haired lady, wondering what exactly he’s just stepped into. She doesn’t spare him a glance. Katzo turns back to Killua when the men are seated at a corner booth.

“Listen, kid- what’s your name?” Killua tells him. “Killua. Ok. I am Katzo. That- “he points over to the calm lady “-is Eliza. We have a ton of baking to catch up on. You need to watch the tables, clear them and take orders and stuff. Think you can do that?”

Killua nods his affirmation, despite a little voice inside nagging that _wouldn’t it be better if I did the baking? And not touch all these rando’s used plates?_ He shoves those thoughts down and grabs the notepad and apron Katzo has all but shoved into his chest.  

Cautiously, he sidles up to the men in suits first. They are huddled together in deep discussion already. Clearing his throat to get their attention, he starts in with a “Hello.” They stare like he’s interrupted a life-or-death situation; but wait for him to continue. “Uh, welcome to the café. What’ll it be today, gentlemen?”

The largest of the group, clad head to toe in a most unflattering pinstripe suit, waves his hand in dismissal, speaking the words Killua didn’t even know he was dreading.

“We’ll have the usual.”

“Oh! But I want extra whip on mine!” a man with the craziest looking mustache Killua has ever seen chimes in, as he sinks further into the depths of despair.

“Yeah, add some whip and a couple extra shots in mine,” a shadow of a man he hadn’t noticed until now creaks out, “I’m going to need it today.”

The other men hum in agreement, bowing their heads at the table in a moment of silence. The pinstripe man looks up first.

“Well kid, you got all that?”

Killua twitches, nods, and turns on his heel back to the counter, the men’s quiet conversation starting up again behind him. He waves at Eliza to get her attention, who ignores him for a hot minute while she deals with a customer. Finally, she turns to him, her demeanor way icier than he’d first anticipated.

“ _Yes?_ ” she spits out with deadly sweetness, taking him aback for a second. _Is this even the same lady? She was so calm before…_

“Uh, the suits over there all want the usual, only mustache wants extra whip and shifty wants whip and two extra shots” he manages to stammer out.

Eliza’s face screws up in a moment of confusion, then she breaks into giggles, bringing up a hand to stifle them.

“Mustache? Shifty? Kid, those are some of the most prominent businessmen in Yorknew. Everyone knows at least a few of them by name.”

Killua scowls, looking back at the table, scanning the faces for anything remotely familiar. He thinks maybe he recognizes the pinstripe man, he might have even killed for him before, but none of the others are ringing any bells. He turns back, shaking his head at a smiling Eliza, shrugging in to his ignorance.

“Really? Ah, don’t worry about it too much now, I’ll get their drinks made and set in order on a tray for you to take out. Go check on the other tables.” She pats Killua on his head and sets to work.

He frowns and ruffles his hair back to what he hopes is a cool look and turns to the main café.

The rest of the afternoon passes surprisingly quickly, with Killua running orders back and forth, clearing tables, and welcoming new customers. Katzo emerges from the back with a stack of baked goods that make Killua stare, his stomach reminding him that he ate breakfast over five hours ago.

The men in suits finish their drinks and order a fresh pie, their meeting clearly far from over.

The café is much quieter now than when he first started, with only a couple customers remaining aside from the full table of businessmen. Killua takes the calm moment to lean back against the counter.

The rattle of plates and mugs as Katzo cleans mingles with the steady burble and whistle of steam from the various coffee machines behind him, punctuated by Eliza’s near constant key-tapping at the register. The murmur of the businessmen rises and falls from their corner. It sounds like they’re discussing maps, or routes to take maybe, there’s a lot of street names and districts being thrown arounds. He’s not sure why it’s taking them so long to decide on a route, any idiot should know they can use the internet these days-

“Hey kid!” Killua turns in annoyance towards the sweet voice.

“I’m not a kid- “

“Yeah, sure you’re not.” Eliza smiles at him over her register “Look, don’t just stand around. It looks bad.”

“But all the tables are taken care of- “

“Well then get cleaning the floors! I’ll remove the covering over here, it’s a real mess.” Eliza flicks her wrist at the floor behind the register, revealing the cake-splattered floors Killua had expected to face when he first entered.

“Wait, you’re a nen user?” Killua blinks between the mess and Eliza. She holds up a finger to her lips in response.

“Shh, not so loud.” She balls up the sheet of energy in her hands and squeezes, seeming to reabsorb it. “I’m a transmuter. The mop is in the back, pipsqueak.”

 Killua grumbles that he’s just as tall as Katzo as he picks his way over the sticky floor, but he has a new appreciation for Eliza. Who knew she was a fellow transmuter?

He pauses while filling up the mop bucket, wondering if he could use his ability to clean faster. Maybe if he zaps the crumbs hard enough, they’ll disappear?

After a failed experiment on some nearby lint he resigns himself to cleaning the old-fashioned way.

 

-

 

When he’s about halfway through scrubbing the floor, he’s interrupted by the squeak of the double doors. Gingakai’s stern voice cuts through the air.

“So, how’s our newbie been managing so far?” she rumbles, a pair of glasses low on her nose as she squints over at Killua, who’s down on his knees scraping at a particularly sticky bit. He looks up and swipes his damp hair back with a sleeve to stare back at her.

Eliza shrugs and hums noncommittally, not even glancing up from the register. Katzo pokes his head out from the kitchen to smile, shake his hand in a so-so gesture and offer “He’s alright!”

Killua ducks his head back down, shaking his hair forward to hide his frown. He’s better than just, ‘alright’, right? He’s taken down some of the most prominent leaders of their day with his hands tied behind his back, he’s scaled mountains these people have never dreamed of, he’s saved his best friend from almost certain death-

He’s scraping polish off the floor tile now.

“Whoa, easy there, short-stuff. We need it clean, not demolished.” Killua bites his tongue and moves on to the next sticky tile.

Gingakai sniffs, pushing her glasses back up her nose with a wrinkled finger. “You are to report in tomorrow at 8:00 am sharp. Eliza will start teaching you how to make our drinks. Once you’ve mastered those, Katzo will show you the ropes in the kitchen.”

Killua blinks up at her in disbelief.

“Um, thank-you Gingakai-san!” She looks kind of blurry and, oh fuck, those aren’t tears in his eyes, are they?

He blinks and rubs at his face with his sleeve as she clicks her tongue and turns toward the table of businessmen.

“Just call me Granny, kid.” As an afterthought, she adds “Once you’ve finished the floors, you’re free to go for the day. And help yourself to some cake or something, you’re too skinny.”

The suits welcome her like an old friend, patting her on the back and inviting her to sit with them at the booth. If Killua had still been listening he might have heard them offer their condolences, and timidly ask if she’d foreseen this, but he’s too busy scrubbing with a renewed determination.

 _He’ll show them,_ he thinks. _He’ll show them all he’s more than just alright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where all the GonxKillua action is don't worry my lovelies, it's coming (mwahahaha).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua learns how to make a decent cup of coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, catch!  
> *throws killugon fluffball at you*  
> *runs away cackling*

 

“That looks like an ass.”

“Shut up!”

“Well it does. Try again”

“Cut him some slack, Eliza, remember the first one you made?”

“Wow. Now it looks like a little shit. No customer’s going to want to drink that. Again.”

Killua scrunches his face up with concentration, trying to hold the jug of cream steady as he pours it into the cup of espresso below. After sixteen failed attempts, it was getting harder. Sixteen shots of espresso were doing nothing to help steady his hands.

“Aw, it’s, almost, heart-shaped.” Katzo encouraged. He wasn’t wrong, but-

“Again.” Eliza was a cruel mistress. Her sweet voice didn’t match her harsh criticisms at all. Killua hadn’t even recognized her insults as such when he first started, but he was beginning to pick up on her sarcastic undertones. The rounded almost-heart stares back at him as he sighs, picking it up and downing it in one shot. It feels like he’s entered his Godspeed mode.

He pours a mushroom.

This hadn’t looked so hard in the videos he had watched last night. Alluka had even helped him practice, although they didn’t have anything to froth the milk properly, so they had ended up just drawing things with chocolate syrup.

“Maybe we should take a break, I can show you a different pattern-

“No.” he snaps at Katzo, a fog of panic rising up through his vibrating limbs. He has to get this right. Eliza hums in agreement behind him.

Taking a deep breath, he raises the cream again, pouring it _just_ so, wiggling the jug side to side near the end, and oh shit, he’s done it, it’s going to be perfect it _is_ fucking perfect-

“Hey Killua! What’cha making?”

Killua jumps and curses, a glug of cream dumping in to his _almost_ perfect heart. Only, it’s not a heart anymore, its…

“Nice dick.” Eliza whispers from behind him. He shoots up, slamming the cream jug on the counter, furious and ready to retort but suddenly Gon is in front of him.

The flush in his cheeks has to be from all the shots of espresso he’s had, right?

Right.

“Hey Gon,” he manages to stammer out. He puts a hand behind his neck and leans the other against the counter, trying to angle his body over the offensive espresso. “Good to see you, we’re just, uh, practicing some latte art.”

Gon’s face lights up. “Really? Oh man, you have to let me try one!”

“Yeah Killua, you’ve had way too many already- why don’t you let Gon try the one you just made?” Katzo pipes in.

He sweats. “Oh, nooooo, Gon doesn’t want this one, give me a sec and I’ll make a new one- “

Gon frowns “If Killua made it, I want it!”

“Give him the coffee, Killua.” Eliza’s sweet voice has a stern, menacing undertone, giving him chills.

He slides the cup over, trying to swirl and shake it on its way to Gon’s hands, but that only serves to make it more of a flop.

Gon glances at the foam for a moment before taking a tiny sip. “I don’t know much about latte art, but is it supposed to be anything, Killua?” He stares back at the latte in surprised awe before downing the rest of it in a single gulp.

Killua coughs, turning his gaze pointedly away from Gon’s throat as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Uh, no. It was just some abstract experiment.”

“He’s working on his hearts right now!” Eliza chimes in, to which Killua shoots an annoyed glare. She smiles innocently back at him.  

“Oh! Make me one of those next!” He holds out his cup eagerly.

Killua scoffs. “It’s the same drink, it’s just got a different pattern on top.”

“Well then I already know it’s going to be really good!”

His mouth twitches up in the corners at Gon’s enthusiasm, taking the cup back and preparing the coffee and milk. This time, he’s extra careful to wiggle _just_ so _,_ and let the line of cream trickle to a stop right at the edge of the cup. Setting down the milk jug, he takes a moment to appreciate the beautiful heart he’s just executed.   

“Good job kid.” A hand ruffles his hair and breaks the moment, but it doesn’t wipe the victorious grin off his face. “We’ll move on to mochas after you finish up with your friend here.”

 

\---

 

Lucky for them it’s quiet in the café, with only a few customers stopping in for to-go cups, which Eliza handles with a swift efficiency and calm demeanour. Katzo recognizes Gon as they openly reminisce about their childhood adventures- turns out he was on the boat Gon took to get to the exam. Apparently, his brush with death was enough to turn him off sailing for good.

After another drink and a generous slice of cake, Gon hums happily, leaning back in the bar stool as much as he can to pat his stomach. “That was really good, Killua!”

He scoffs and totally does not blush at the praise, twisting his mug around in his hands (he’s on to decaf now, don’t worry). He risks a glance back at Gon, who is staring eagerly at him, cupping his chin while he leans on his elbows. There’s a streak of cream at the corner of his lips.

Killua blinks. “…What?”

“Hm? Oh, I was just thinking how happy I am you found something like this.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “You know, I thought you might be like, the king of the assassins by now. But you’re doing this instead. I think, well, I think it’s really admirable that you’re doing something you want to do, instead of, well, what you were made to do?”

“…what I was made to do?” He feels like he’s burning.

Gon jerks up, raising his hands in defense. “No, no! That’s not what I meant, it’s just like, you’re a Zoldyck, all the Zoldycks are assassins, I don’t think any of you have ever not been an assassin, and here you are, doing your own thing instead, and I think it’s awesome! I mean, …”

Killua watches as Gon digs himself a deeper hole. It’s not like he was wrong. His father’s words come back to him, that his adventures “ _perhaps, in time, will lead you back here.”_ He had ended up back in the family business, eventually. It was inevitable, he thinks. Killing was in his nature. It made sense to use what came to him naturally, and it was no small bonus that it brought in extra cash.

He stares down at his mug, swirling what’s left of his drink around, something like guilt sitting deep in his gut. Gon pauses in his chatter when he’s been silent for too long.

“Uh, Killua? You ok?”

He jumps, turning his face up and slapping on a grin, “Yep! Never better!” He tries to shake off the awkward moment, but pauses, his grin slipping.

“Gon, I, uh, there’s something you should- “  

“Okay! Killua, your break is over.” Eliza smiles and bows to Gon, “Thank you for keeping him company mister!” Turning, she shouts “Katzo! Take the till!” as she all but drags Killua to the kitchen. Gon waves and grins as they go and Killua feels a wave of relief wash over him.

“I’ll see you later, Killua-kun!”

\--

In the kitchen, Eliza whirls on him, a flurry of purple and skirts. “Soooo... How long have you been dating that hunk?”

Killua splutters in shock, all appreciation for Eliza gone along with his composure. “W-what?! We’re just friends! I don’t even think of him that way- “

“Sure, kid. Look. I’ve seen him in matches before. There’s no way that gentle giant out there is the same guy. The way he looks at you, “her face falls for a moment, “…it reminds me of someone I used to know.”

“But I don’t- he’s just- UGH!” Killua panics, pacing back and forth, glancing between the kitchen door and Eliza’s folded arms. “I don’t like him like that!” _Right?_  He stops pacing, memories of a grinning cake-smeared face rising unbidden in his mind. He pushes them back down and stands his ground. “I don’t.”

Eliza quirks an eyebrow up at him, arms crossed, still unconvinced. “Alright, kid. You may not like him, but he sure looks like he’s into you. Might be a good idea to let him down easy, he’s got quite the temper from what I’ve heard.”

She turns back to the doors. “Why don’t you get started on the dishes, we’ve got a rush coming in about an hour.”

Killua doesn’t move, his fists balled up at his sides and nails digging into his palms. The door swishes back and forth as Eliza leaves.

 _Stupid Eliza._ Gon didn’t like him like that. They were just friends. They’d _always_ just been friends.

Close friends, maybe, but that didn’t mean they were anything more- _did he really look at him differently?_

Peeking out the rounded window of the kitchen door, he watches as Gon pays for his drinks, laughing with Katzo, dropping his change one too many times.

 _See that, Eliza? He’s just as friendly with any old guy._ Gon hadn’t changed a bit.

Killua frowns as he stares, thinking of the small spiky-haired boy he’d left six years ago.

 _Well, personality-wise, he hasn’t changed much,_ he thinks, eyes skimming over chiseled abs where his shirt has lifted.

Gon’s muscular form towers over Katzo as he jokes with him, leaning over the counter to write something down and pass it over with a sheepish grin.

Katzo is probably smiling back but Killua can’t see them anymore, he’s up to his elbows in soap suds as he scrubs furiously at the dishes.

 

-

 

When the doors open again, he doesn’t even look up. He’s been scrubbing at the same dish for the last ten minutes. It’s the second last one in the pile.

“Killua! Hey, you’re almost done, good. Eliza wants to start on mochas with you” the redhead chirps at him. Killua doesn’t even spare him a glance, only grunting to let him know he heard.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Gon invited us out for drinks later, he wants to catch up some more.” Katzo digs around in his apron, “He wasn’t sure if you still had his number, but he wanted us to have it in case we can’t find the place. It’s kind of a hole in the wall.”

He proffers the paper at Killua, who quickly shakes off his hands before swiping it up.

The handwriting is messy and quick, but it’s legible as a phone number and the address of the place Gon wants to meet. There’s a little smiley face in the corner. His face twitches. Is he grinning? Eliza’s words come back to him and he tries very hard to control his expression.

His heart is racing, but he can’t imagine why getting Gon’s number for the second time in his life is making it do that.

Katzo is still staring expectantly at him from the doorway, watching as he silently struggles for control over his own body. Something like hope is threatening to dig its claws into in his chest.

He blinks and, very nonchalantly, it’s not like this is important to him or anything, says “Uh, thanks Katzo. Sounds like fun.” He considers adding finger guns but decides against it at the last second, damp fingers twitching against the paper. The redhead grins and salutes him, sashaying out the door.

The little paper burns in his shirt pocket while he attempts to make a decent mocha which, once he gets it right, is his new favorite drink of all time. He savours the creamy chocolatey goodness in a to-go cup on his way home and tries very hard to think of anything but chocolate-coloured eyes and a sunshine smile.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Uh, comment or kudos or whatever, always happy to hear from you!  
> (๑╹ڡ╹)╭ ～ ♡


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua is fashionably late for a fun night out.

 

 

“How about this one?”

“Mm, no, it’s too dark. Try this instead.”

“Seriously? I don’t know if it still fits me.” He tosses it aside.

“What happened to your crop top?”

Alluka holds up a short purple shirt that has been ripped at the base. He frowns. “That’s not a crop top. And I’m not wearing it.”

“But you’d look so cute in it!”

“ _Hai!”_ Nanika chimes in.

Killua looks skeptically at the lilac tee his teenage sister has thrown at him and the growing pile on his bed. It used to be huge on him, but now he’s wondering why he still has it. He pushes it aside, picking up a black turtleneck instead.

“We just looked at that one!” Alluka protests.

“Yeah,” he strokes the fabric almost affectionately, “but it’s just so soft! Can’t I pair it with a leather jacket or something?”

Alluka shrugs, “If you want to look emo,” and throws some different shirts at him. He tosses a sock at her and sticks out his tongue.

He picks through the new options, nothing feeling right. They were never going to find something for him to wear in time. “Ugh, I don’t even know why I asked for your help.” He flops back on the bed.

“Says the guy who didn’t stop wearing board shorts until last year.”

He grins, “Who said I ever gave them up?”

 Alluka throws the sock back at him.

“What? They’re comfy.”

“You’re wearing the skinny jeans and that’s that.” She punctuates her words with a finger, then dives back into searching through his closet.

Ironically, he’d spilled coffee on the shirt he was planning to wear on his way home from work. He’d been texting Alluka that he’d be out for the night when he walked into a pole with his drink in hand. Needless to say, neither his shirt nor the pole made it out fully unscathed.

He’d been laughed at twice when he got home in a panic, but Alluka was eager to help her big brother in the fashion department.

“Hey, what about this one?”

“…It’s really not tank top season right now.”

Alluka pouts and throws it on the bed with the others. “There’s not much left in here, Kil!”

The closet of the small apartment they were staying in was, indeed, almost empty. Killua groans and pulls out his phone to check the time. He tosses it on the night stand, groaning louder.

“Do you think Nanika could wish me a cool shirt?”

She frowns but her face changes with it, her eyes and mouth seeming to sink into her skull as Nanika takes over. She swivels her head in an impossible turn to stare at Killua.

“ _Iie.”_

“Well, it was worth a shot.” He starts sorting through the pile of everything he’s rejected, wondering if it would be too late to cancel as Nanika giggles in the background. It’s just Gon and Katzo, after all- they can hang out anytime.

_Still…_

Shivering, he shoves down against the light, fluttery feeling that has been building in his stomach all day. The stupid butterflies have refused to die.

He looks over when Alluka hums in question and holds up a rumpled burgundy sweater. He’d forgotten all about that one.

“Hm, that could work… “

“Yeah? It’s got a bunch of lint on it, but I like the colour- “  

His phone buzzes and he jumps for it, almost falling off the bed.

“Aw, is that your date?” Alluka teases.

“He’s not my date! We’re just f- “he pauses mid-word as he scans over the message. It’s not Gon.

Alluka giggles “Just what? Fuc- “Killua shushes her and sits up from the bed, a frown forming at the back of his mind.

“…did something bad happen?”

Killua glances over at her, deep in thought, but breaks concentration when he sees the worry on her face.

“Uh, no, never mind. Just something about... work.” He clicks his phone shut, the kill order on it already filed away in his head.

He smiles at Alluka. “I think that’s the one. Let me try it on!”

She hands him the sweater, skeptical and concerned, but he brushes past, closing the closet door to change.

 _They really do need the money_ , he thinks, slipping off his old shirt. Coffee alone won’t pay the bills, and the last job wasn’t worth as much as he had hoped.

When they had first set foot in Yorknew, Alluka had stared in awe up at the tall buildings and told him she wanted to live in one for a while. After travelling for so long, the idea appealed to him too. They could finally catch up on their education, and she could maybe make some friends her own age.

But the apartment they had chosen was expensive, and so was the private school Killua had found for Alluka. She was an expert at controlling when Nanika came out now, after too many close calls in their travels.

He didn’t want her to worry about anything else.

His phone buzzes again, just as his head pokes through the neck of the sweater. He fumbles through the long sleeves, pushing them up around his forearms.

The screen displays a very large number, along with a deadline. He stares at it for a moment, checks his watch, then types in a confirmation code and hits send.

Breathing out slowly, he feels the butterflies start up again near his kidneys. He really could stand to blow off some energy. What better way than a job?

Stepping out of the closet, he spins around.

“Well?”

Alluka squints at him, assessing the outfit before grinning and giving him two thumbs up. “Yeah, that’s it!”

Her face shifts. “ _Pretty!”_

He grins back at them and ruffles their hair before grabbing his keys and wallet. “Great, later sis!”

“Wow, eager much? Say hi to your boyfriend for me!”

“Not my boyfriend!” he shouts back, leaving before she can retort.

 

\---

 

Killua stalks through the dark passage, careful to conceal his presence from the target and her many bodyguards. At his last count there were five, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. If he could manage to pick up their radio signal first, he could get a much better read of the situation.

He fiddles with the small receiver attached to his belt loop. To anyone else it would look like he’s adjusting music over his headphones, not trying to hack into the headsets of a prominent mob boss entourage. He’s rewarded with a crackle and a faint chatter through the static haze of the radio universe.

“ _kzzzrt-_ _prepare for arriv- zzrrrrrk- two on the left -vvsrzzzt- -eport status, Team Theta-kkkkzzzzzt- “_

Killua’s grin at gaining a signal falters. _Team Theta?_ That could mean a potential of at least eight pairs…

Illumi’s words of warning threaten to surface in his mind, but he pushes them back down. He’s faced worse odds.

The boss and her team have paused at an inconspicuous gap in the brick alleyway. She appears to be conversing with someone on the other side of a doorway, sliding an envelope through a small opening and waiting as locks are unlocked. The team enters silently, casting glances around the dark alley as they slip inside.

_Hm, so some kind of a secret club?_

Moving in closer to the doorway, he stays hidden in the shadows, and waits. A couple approaches and performs the same ritual as the mob boss before them, speaking to the door master and sliding something in. This time though, Killua can hear everything.

He steals the envelope from the next club-goer before they know what’s happened, stashing their unconscious form in a recess and approaching the door in their stead. Rifling open the envelope, he sees it is an invitation and a nice stack of bills. He leaves the bills on the body and looks closer at the invitation.

_Hunter’s Tavern- need a Hunter? Find one here! Private meeting rooms available upon request._

Huh. Maybe he should just use his licence. If he wasn’t on the job, it looked like an awesome place to just hang out. Maybe he could convince Gon to go later.

He shakes his head at the thought- he’s got to stay on task here. 

Pushing up the long burgundy sleeve of his sweater, he raps on the imposing metal structure tucked away between the brick walls. A section near the top slides back to reveal some menacing eyes.

“You lost kid?”

Killua stands up taller when he hears the intimidating voice, trying to adopt a cool pose. He holds up his hunter’s licence for the eyes to see.

The eyes shift in surprise. “So, you’s a hunter? You knows there’s a front entrance, right?”

Killua’s hand drops a little at the suggestion, but he recovers by shrugging. “Meh, thought I’d try going this way, I guess.”

They grunt and close the slot, rattling and clinking on the other side as locks are unlocked. A monster of a man with a graying beard greets him on the other side.

“Hmph. You is clear. Enjoy, mister.”

Killua grins as he steps past and melts back into the shadows, one step closer to his prey. In fact, isn’t that one of her bodyguards there, in front of that door? He approaches the hallway with a cautious glee. Music and light chatter pulse from the other end of the corridor ( _all the better to mask his attacks with_ ), and a few people are scattered around, nattering above the noise.

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. If he can get past that door, he knows his target will only be a few guards away from being terminated. Then he can go meet Katzo and Gon, at whatever bar they have chosen. He still needs to check the address.

He shoves down against the butterflies.

Carefully, he begins to walk down the hall, weaving through the crowd and positioning himself _just_ so to pass the first guard.

Before they can notice he bumps them with his shoulder, taking their weight as they collapse from the shock, quickly shifting their body onto his and grabbing the door handle. _One down_ , he thinks, when-

“Killua?”

He freezes and turns, hand still twisting on the knob and guard slumped over him.

_No. No no no no no-_

“Killua! You’re here!”

“ _What?”_ This can’t be happening. He’d been so stealthy.

Gon stumbles towards him as people and lights and music writhe and pulse around him. “Katzo’s up at the bar with Zushi already!” He pauses, wobbling a little as he takes in Killua and the guard. “Uh, I guess you brought a friend! Who- “

“Nobody! Just. A, hm.” Killua pauses, twitching as things click into place. Of _course_ Gon would choose this bar. He should be more surprised that his target chose the same place. He glances between the door and Gon, formulating a plan. Gon already appears to be pretty drunk- he might be able to use that to his advantage.

He adjusts the guard in his arms, who elicits a groan. Gon’s eyes snap toward the sound.

“Uh, Gon. Listen.” He perks up at his name, eyes dilating as he tries to focus on Killua. “My friend here, he’s not feeling so great. I’m just going to help him lay down here, in this room. Give me like, 10 minutes and I’ll meet you at the bar, ok?”

“Do you, uh, want any help?” Gon’s face looks flushed, but that must be a trick of the light, right?

“What? No. Just go away.” Killua waves his free hand at Gon and goes back to twisting the door open, shifting quickly inside. He tosses his “friend” on the floor and shuts the door on Gon’s face. Turning the lock, he rattles out a sigh, fighting down jitters.

The click of ten, maybe eleven guns cock behind him.

He smiles softly. “Well then, who’s first?”  

 

\--

 

“You good there, mate?”

Killua grunts and brushes past a concerned leather-clad hunter, heading straight to the bar instead. He waves to get the bartender’s attention, who looks suspiciously like the one from the Hunter website.

“Give me anything on the rocks.” When the bartender doesn’t move from wiping out the glass in his hands, he adds “please?”

The moustached man smiles. “That’s more like it. One moment, please.”

When Killua gets the drink, it goes straight to his head, ice clinking as he presses the cool glass against his temple. Turns out taking on ten armed members of the mob at the same time was not the best plan in the world.

Cautiously, he lifts a hand to his eye. _Yep, that’s swollen_. Sighing, he lowers the glass to take a sip, wincing as the whiskey burns down his throat. A black eye is the least of his worries right now.

He scans the bar, grimacing as he turns too much and his ribs complain, but he ignores the pain when his eye lands on what he was searching for.

A head of spiky black hair bobs between two others in animated conversation. Gon has his arm on the table, raised in a challenge to Zushi. A row of shots is lined up on the side.

Killua grins, shoots back the rest of his drink, and approaches their table. He knows he can’t stay too much longer what with the crime scene he’s just created, but there’s no way in hell he’s missing the chance to see Gon in an arm-wrestling match against Zushi.

“Who’s winning?” he asks, sliding in next to Katzo.

“Killua! You made it!”

Gon glances up at the mention of Killua’s name, which turns out to be a mistake as Zushi slams his hand to the table in victory.

“Hey! No fair!”

Zushi crosses his arms and leans back smiling, “Os! Not my fault you lost your concentration. Now drink!”

Gon glumly lifts a shot glass, downing it as Katzo leans in to Killua’s space to whisper-shout, “It was tied ‘til you showed up.”

“It’s good to see you again, Killua-san!” Zushi smiles at him.

“What happened to your face?”

Killua ignores Gon’s comment, turning to Zushi instead. “Heh. Good to see you too, Zushi. It looks like you’ve improved a lot since I last saw you!”

Zushi grins, offering him a hand. “Care to test that theory?”

He smirks, bracing his elbow on the table and taking the hand. “You’re on!”

Their muscles flex as they fight for domination. Zushi is an immovable force, steadily pushing his hand closer to a tipping point. Killua grunts with effort and his ribs twinge in a reminder that he’s not exactly in prime condition to be winning this thing. He braces his other hand against the table, locking eyes with Zushi as he just barely manages to push his hand over a little to the side.

A single bead of sweat appears on Zushi’s temple and rolls down to his chin. As Killua’s muscles start to burn with the effort of keeping Zushi at bay, he feels a shift in the air.

“Hey! You didn’t say we were using nen!”

Zushi grunts as he pushes against his palm, “Not much of a fight without it.”

He hears Gon exclaim in the background while Katzo chuckles quietly into his drink.

Killua scoffs as he activates his own nen, now pushing against Zushi’s energies and his hand. Even with the added power, he’s still having trouble matching his sheer strength.

His arm trembles. If he can just get the right leverage…

“Oh ho, Zushi wins!” Katzo exclaims. Killua carefully peels his arm up from the table and subtly tries to massage some feeling back into it. There is a dent where his fist landed.

“Os! Now drink!”

He scowls but picks up a shot glass, downing it quickly and slamming it upside-down next to a growing pile on the side. Gon is laughing at him.

“Ha, you’ve got some catching up to do, better add a few to that.”

Killua grins, picking up a couple more shots and downing them like they’re nothing. He feels a warmth creeping through him. “How’s that?”

Gon smiles, leaning his head against his hand. “Better.” If he stares a bit too long, no one mentions it, the others dissolving into light conversation.

Gon breaks eye contact first, picking up another shot for himself as his smile melts into a concerned frown. “Soooo, was your friend going to be joining us?”

Killua tilts his head, confused, “Friend?”

“You know, dark, handsome, really into your neck…” Gon sticks his arms out and moans, miming something like a zombie.

_Oh, the bodyguard-_

“Him? Uh, I don’t actually know him that well.” he blushes, nervously twisting his glass in his hands, surprised that Gon would even bring it up.

Gon’s eyes snap up to his, searching.

“Oh?”

“…yeah? He, uh, just wasn’t feeling good.” 

“Hm.” Gon goes quiet, smiling down into another shot as if it contains the mysteries of the universe and he can unlock them if he stares long enough.

Determined to quell the rising flush in his cheeks, he turns to Katzo instead, who’s regaling Zushi with a tale from his sailor days. A row of menacing looking hunters sit at the bar, a few are playing darts near the back, and the small crowd in the hallway he had come from chatter on in the background.

This is the longest he’s ever stayed near a crime scene.

As Zushi begins a discussion with Gon about training strategies, he sees a frightened looking young woman in a tight dress approach the bartender, waving her hands around as she talks, gesturing back to the hallway. Some of the hunters at the bar perk up at her frantic outburst.

“Killua? Earth to Killua!”

“Huh?” He turns back to Zushi and Gon, jumping when Gon puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Back me up on this Kil- interval or steady-state?”

“What?” Killua blinks, leaning to look around Gon as the row of mean-looking hunters get up from the bar and move to the back hallway.

“Training, Kil! D’ya - _hic-_ do intervals or boring slow cardio stuff?”

Killua lifts Gon’s hand off his shoulder and drops it to the side, shoving hard against the butterflies and looking back at the hallway instead. Gon huffs at him in question.

“I don’t know Gon, I just, train?” Gon shoves his arm as he takes a worried sip of his melting whiskey-less ice and the hunters still haven’t returned.  The glass hits his teeth.

“Ow, hey!”

Gon crosses his arms and pouts. Zushi sighs, “If you had to pick one to do for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

He groans, “Interval, I guess?”

Gon grins, his friendship apparently restored. Killua smiles uneasily as Gon downs another shot, but his eyes flick back to the hallway. “Uh, listen guys, it’s been fun and all, but I should head out- “

“Attention all hunters! Please do not be alarmed,” the bartender booms out, two menacing looking hunters on either side of him. “There has been an incident here tonight resulting in the deaths of some of our very beloved patrons.”

Killua feels like the air is being sucked out of the room as people gasp in shock around him.

“Yes, we are all deeply troubled. However, we would like to right the wrong that has befallen us here in our very fine establishment. If you have any information regarding the clients in room 3A, it would be most helpful to us. Please, come forward with anything you may have seen or heard, or anything that you think might help us in solving this sad incident.”

The bar quickly picks up into a gossipy hum. Killua relaxes, sliding out of his seat as the noise level rises. Maybe he can slip out the back way before anyone-

“Hey Killua! Don’t go- _hic-_  WE CAN HELP Mister Bartender! my - _hic_ \- friend is a genuine ex-assassin, we’ll solve the death - _hic_ \- mystery!”

Killua turns slowly, fixing a very drunk Gon with an incredulous stare. If looks could kill, he’d be the second crime scene of the night.

“You’re an assassin?” Katzo asks innocently.

Zushi hums, “You’re an _ex_ -assassin?”

Gon is smiling up at him from the table.

He twitches, wondering what he ever saw in these people.

“Haha, such a joker Gon, listen, like I was saying, I’ve got to go now.”

He gets up to leave but finds his way blocked by a very muscular leather-clad chest.

“Where d’ya think you’re going, Snow White?”

Killua frowns up at the owner of said chest, his good eye twitching at the insult. He calmly reaches back for his empty glass.

“Just grabbing another fucking drink, _princess_. Care to move?”

“You tell her, Killua!” Gon slurs.

Zushi catches Gon before he rolls out of his chair. “Uh, maybe we should get going too, huh?”

“Aw, not yet, the night’s young! We haven’t even got in a fight yet!”

“Fight?” the redhead nervously clutches at his drink, staring in hesitant awe up at the leather-clad hunter.

They still haven’t moved.

Killua sighs. _Looks like there’s only one way out of this one_.

“Hey Zushi. Think you can get Gon and Katzo out of here?”

Zushi turns from handling Gon into a more upright position. “Uh, maybe? Why-? “

“Good. Go now.”

He drops the glass and adopts a fighting stance, charging up his nen as the hunter and their buddies come at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That’s going to end well for everyone involved. Stay tuned next week when we visit the morgue-  
> jk I won’t do that to y’all. Thanks for reading, like comment or subscribe and all that jazz, love all you folks so much!
> 
> UPDATE 12/19  
> So like for all you new readers, fair warning I really start to deviate from the coffeeshop fluff after this and fuck if I don't go a little dark. HOWEVER if you like weird assassin family drama, nervous dinner dates, betrayal and redemption and me running wildly through all my favorite fic trope scenarios then heck, you might like it. We're just gonna rollercoaster from here. No worries though 'cause just like any rollercoaster ever designed imma bring it right back around to the start. To coffee. Just like, strap in. It's a bumpy ride.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers suck.

 

Darkness and warmth.

And then, a steady pulsing sensation starting behind his eyes and working its way down through his bones.

Killua grunts and shifts on the stiff cushions. His head feels like it’s full of boulders, grinding together like an avalanche as he tries to roll over.

 _Nope, no, not a good idea._ He stops moving, but his stomach is still turning.

Someone is humming a tune he doesn’t recognize behind him. There's an occasional clink and scrape as the mystery person moves around.

Risking it, he peels open an eye, wincing at the bright light that pierces his skull. Groaning, he squints it shut again. His body feels like it’s been dragged through one of his brother’s torture sessions.

“Killua? Are you awake?” He stiffens. That’s Gon’s voice.

“…no?” he croaks out.

“Oh. Well, I’m making breakfast if you want anything.”

His eyebrows pinch together in confusion. _In what universe was Gon offering to make him breakfast? Where is he, how did he get here-_

He makes the mistake of bolting upright when he remembers, stomach lurching at the sudden change in position. _The bar-_

Hugging his knees for support as the world spins violently around him, he takes in the large apartment, focusing on his breathing. Katzo is snoring in an armchair a few feet away, arms askew and a yellow blanket drawn up around his chest. The rest of the space is relatively bare- there’s a tv with some game equipment hooked up to it, a table in the corner, and some very large windows that are too bright for him to look at right now. He breathes out slowly.

“Do you want any eggs?”

Carefully, Killua turns his head towards the voice on the other side of the couch. Gon is wearing an apron and holding a frying pan. Printed on the apron is a muffin, the word ‘stud’ above it.

“Killua?”

“Oh, um, sure, eggs sound great.” He coughs and attempts to drag his gaze away, but his eyes betray him and linger around Gon’s sleep-mussed hair, flicking down the smooth line of his neck and sculpted shoulders as he turns to the stove, going lower...

He coughs again, snapping his eyes up to the ceiling. _Nope, no, he is not checking his best friend out._

Not that he’d been staring.

Gon hums in the kitchen, unaware of his struggles. “Alright, hope you like ‘em scrambled.”

There’s a hiss as egg hits the hot pan, but Killua turns back toward the windows, wrapping his blanket around him and trying desperately to will the redness in his cheeks away. He stares into the bright sun even as it burns and makes his head pound tenfold. His mouth tastes like battery acid.

He remembers fighting, lots of fighting, and then, nothing. Blackness. He frowns, glancing sideways to where Gon is still humming and scrambling away, then pinches himself hard.

_Ow._

Okay, so heaven is probably off the list. He quietly shakes out his arm- _fuck, that hurt-_ and goes back to looking around for clues.

A photo of Zushi and Wing sits on the tv stand, along with a few medals and a pile of games. To the right of the kitchen is a hallway, which he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Weights and resistance bands are shoved together in a corner by the windows, along with a couple of training mats. A few energy drink bottles and cans are scattered around the place at random, with a fair few of them piled up on the end table next to him. There’s also-

He knocks some of the bottles off the table as he swipes up his phone, immediately flicking to his messages.

_(23:59) Wow, you’re out late._

_(23:59) Get lucky or something?_

_(00:01)_ ｛・ω-*}

 _(00:23) Wait seriously?_ （○□○）

 _(00:24) you better have a_ good _excuse for not responding right away, big bro :(_

_(00:25) msg me in the morning if you aren’t still busy_

_(00:25) with like, your boyfriend or whatever_

_(00:26) I need all the deets (_ _･ｪ-)_

Killua mutters under his breath as he snuggles deeper into his blanket cocoon, then types out a reply.

(09:37) WOW sis, you were up late.

(09:37) also, not my boyfriend

(09:37) and don’t say stuff like that

(09:37) it’s embarrassing

_(09:39) HE LIVES!_

(09:39) no shit.

_(09:39) so spill_

(09:40) There’s nothing to tell

 _(09:40) sure, I believe you_ ｛・ω-*}

_(09:40) where r u now?_

_(09:40) his place?_

_(09:41) seeing as you’re not here?_

_(09:41) *wink wonk_

(09:42) we ALL crashed in the same place

(09:42) I think it’s at the arena?

(09:42) also I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain to you that we are all responsible adults and

(09:42) jUST FRIENDS

_(09:42) a likely story…_

(09:43) Yep bc it is true

_(09:43) and yet you haven’t shut up about your “adventures with Gon”_

_(09:43) how “great things were” with Gon_

(09:43) Hey-

_(09:43) PRETTY_

_(09:44) yes how “pretty”, and how “brave and incredible” Gon is “even after all these years”_ (  ื▿ ืʃƪ)

(09:44) wHat?!

_(09:45) your words, not mine_

(09:45) blocked

_(09:45) ok pretty was Nanika_

(09:46) BLOCKED

_(09:46) aw, come on Kil, you wouldn’t block your poor widdle baby sister?_

_(09:47) Kil?!_

(09:47) B L O C K E D

_(09:47) NOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

_(09:47) OO pick up some milk on your way home_

 

“Who’re you texting?”

Killua fumbles and almost drops his phone out of the blanket cocoon. “Uh, no one!”

Gon eyes him skeptically, standing in front of the couch with two plates and… not much else. He is notably apron-less and wearing only a dark green pair of boxers. Killua focuses every fiber of his being on controlling his expression into something nonchalant, but he feels like he’s failing miserably.

He’s just, a friend. Yeah. Friend. _JUST A FRIEND._

"Just a friend- “he mumbles “-I mean, uh, my sister! Alluka was wondering where I was.”

“Oh, tell her I said hi. Here- scoot over!”

Killua practically shoots to the other end of the couch. Gon plops himself down and hands him the other plate, flicking on the tv and digging in as soon as his other hand is free.

The cream-colored mess stares up at Killua, making his stomach do funny things. A wave of nausea he’d almost forgotten about resurges, but he steels himself and takes a forkful of fluffy eggs, shoving it in his mouth and swallowing before he can think too hard about it, ripping into a piece of toast next.

It’s not the worst breakfast he's ever had.

The tv drones on about the latest political scandal, moving on to the weather as he and Gon scarf down breakfast. He pauses in the middle of a mouthful of egg, questions pressing through the need to eat.

“Hey, Gon?”

He glances over, mouth full. “Mm?” There’s a piece of egg stuck on his lips.

Killua turns back to his plate, chewing and swallowing as some very pesky insects make a reappearance. “Uh, do you remember what happened last night?”

“You don’t?” He shakes his head. “Oh. Wait, I guess you wouldn’t. Well,” he gestures with his fork, “we were drinking, you had come in with some guy-uh, you know what never mind him, um, right. We were drinking, then this fight broke out which was awesome! And then I think you got knocked out by this dude with like, spikes or something, but he looked _really_ tough, so then I punched him and Zushi picked you up and we all took you to go see this amazing doctor, and uh, then we didn’t know where you lived so we all just decided to come back here.”

Gon pauses, fork mid-air. “Hey, you feel ok, right? The doc patched you up alright?”

“Um, well, my head hurts a little, but- “his brows furrow, “Wait, I got knocked out?”

“Yeah, but the guy was like, super tough- it took me like, ten hits to take him out.”

“Without nen?” his fork clatters as he drops it on his plate. “How the fuck- “

Gon is frowning. “What, you think I’m not strong enough to take on a guy like that?”

Killua sputters, putting a hand to his chest “He knocked _me_ out! How in fucking hell were _you_ able to take him- “

Gon captures his wrist, pinning it to the back of the couch.

Killua does not take a sharp breath at the sudden contact, and most certainly does not feel a heat rise through his cheeks.

He does push against the calloused hand, eyes narrowing when Gon smirks at him and takes another forkful of eggs. Huffing, he activates his nen, shoving his arm forward.

It doesn’t budge.

Carefully, Gon moves their plates to the side, easily dodging a well aimed jab from Killua’s other hand, but he recoils upon getting zapped. Killua grins and wiggles his now free fingers in victory, sparking them at the tips.

“Ha! See what I me- “

Gon practically lunges forward in a playful tackle, but Killua counters and tears out of his blanket, grunting as he twists and shoves Gon into the couch, dropping a knee on his back. Laughing, Gon shoves back, trying to throw him, but he manages to stay on until Gon rolls. Grabbing his leg, Gon pulls him down to the floor to pin him, but Killua is ready and shocks him again, quickly flipping their positions so he’s perched on top of his chest. Gon stills, seeming content to lay under him, teasing him with the occasional arm jab which he easily counters. Killua frowns at the sudden change in his opponent, studying his face carefully for a tell.

“Could you guys please stop? S’like an earthquake or somethin’.”

Gon takes advantage when Killua shoots a mortified look toward Katzo, thrusting his face into the carpeted floor and leaning his entire upper body on his back. “Only if you admit you rely too much on nen,” he grunts.

Breathing hard but grinning, he strains under the pressure. They haven’t fought like this in ages. He charges up to shock Gon off again, but stops, his words catching up to him. He tries shoving with brute force one more time before sighing in defeat.

“Okay, fine! You win.”

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear it over the sound of me defeating _you_ of all people without _nen_.” Gon leans in close to gloat, hot breath tickling his ear and suddenly the weight on his back feels too warm, too much, too close-

“We get it! You’re the greatest, etcetera, now get _off!_ ” Gon yelps at the shockwave he sends out.

“Would you _please_ be quiet? _Some_ of us actually have hangovers!”

“Sorry, Katzo.” 

Killua rolls over, catching his breath again, huffing out nervous laughter.  _What the fuck was that?!_  Gon stifles giggles beside him.

He risks a glance as Gon throws his head back and sighs, spreading his arms across the couch cushions. A smattering of tiny freckles spills down his neck and collarbones, dusting his chest. _Have those always been there?_ He has a sudden urge to trace them.

“Hey, Killua?” Gon is biting his lip as he stares at him.

He shakes himself, “Yeah?” His cheeks had better not be red.

“Last night, were you- did you k- ?” he frowns, looking unsure of himself. “You know what, never mind.” His smile looks strained as he picks himself up off the floor.

Killua frowns. It wasn’t like Gon to just drop a question like that. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“Really?”

“GODS JUST LET ME SLEEP IN PEACE.” Katzo lobs a pillow at them, but Gon deftly catches it mid-air. He smirks, gazing down at him warmly and mouthing ' _nothing'_   at him before dropping the pillow directly on his face _._

Killua’s eye twitches, disapproval etching over his worried confusion.

_Why, out of everyone in the world, was it this idiot?_

When he removes the pillow from his face, Gon is missing, along with their breakfast plates. The sound of water and dishes drifts from the kitchen, mixing with the quiet hum of a tune he still doesn’t recognize.

It’s, nice, though he’ll be damned if he’ll ever admit it to anyone.

He sighs. Maybe he can just stay on the floor for the rest of the day.

 

\--

 

When he finally does manage to leave, it’s well past 4:00. Zushi comes back from his early morning training in one of the arena’s many gyms, and then he and Gon insist on giving him a tour of everything they’ve had access to since Zushi became a floor master.

He really shouldn’t be surprised that there’s an entire floor full of candy, it fits right in along with the trampoline park and zoo on other floors. Nobody stops him from filling his pockets with sweets, although he catches Gon laughing quietly at him as they leave, a knowing smirk on his face.

It feels like sunbeams.

Sighing at the memory, he pulls out a chocolate from his pocket, unwrapping it and sticking it in his mouth as he walks home.

Skyscrapers tower overhead. It’s overcast, dark clouds hanging like pregnant whales above the jagged buildings. He shivers. If he cuts through this alley, he might be able to shave off some time and get home before the rain starts.

He squints down the dark passage. It looks clear, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is… off.

The alleyway stares back, it’s maw seeming to open a little wider as he pokes his head in.

_Mm, nope. Not today._

He retreats back to the main path and commits to walking the longer way home, when a fat drop of rain hits his cheek.

His feet turn of their own volition as more drops plummet from the heavens, and he matches their spatter with the pounding of his feet as he dashes through the shadow between buildings.

Thunder rolls above.

He doesn’t see the hunter, but he feels the moment they depart from this plane of existence. The sweet tang of blood mixes with scent of asphalt and rain, though his hands remain clean. Dread clouds his vision as he searches the shadows for any signs of life.

 _There’s nobody._..

A tall, dark figure appears on the edge of the shadows with the next roll of thunder. They’re holding the limp body of a hunter he recognizes from the bar fight last night.

A single needle drops and rolls towards him on the asphalt.

“You should be more careful, brother. A good assassin never leaves loose ends.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, sitting in a dark room with a cuppa:  
> *calm before the slurp™*  
> -  
> Thanks for reading!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro talk!  
> .  
> .  
> .

“Wait, stop-”

“Mother was so happy to hear you were killing again, she cried. Even Father smiled.” Cocking his head to the side, Illumi stares blankly at Killua. “But you are denying your kills?”

“No, they were jobs, I guess, but,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. Seems like they'd finally caught up to him. “Look, can you just get it over with? Gloat all you want; I know I fucked up on the last one.”

The unblinking gaze of his brother feels like it’s boring a hole straight through to his core, but he refuses to break under it.

_There’s no needle there’s no needle I took it out there’s no needle-_

Carefully, Illumi strides over to where he is leaning against the brick wall of the alley, dragging the limp body of the dead hunter by the wrist behind him. The body flops and splashes through the puddles, leaving a trail of red on the rain-soaked asphalt. Killua shivers, unsettled as his brother inches nearer, but slides down the wall to sit, determined not to run away. Illumi gracefully crouches beside him, hauling the body into an upright position so they are all sitting in a row in the rain.

An awkward silence stretches between them. Killua’s ass is getting soaked and he shifts uncomfortably, but there’s no way he’s going to break first.

He doesn’t need to wait much longer. Illumi clears his throat and holds the dead body up like a ventriloquist’s dummy.

“Why don’t you come back to our family, Killua?” he drones, monotone as ever. “Don’t you looove us?” He waves the body’s arms around with each word.

Killua shoves the dummy out of his face, unsmiling. “You know that hasn’t worked since I was three.”

Illumi lowers the dummy’s arms. “Ah. I suppose not. Still,” he looks up between the buildings, clutching the body to his chest, “I thought you might find it amusing. Hisoka says I need to improve my timing.” He absently scratches his fingers through the dummy’s hair, as if considering his next words carefully.

“Actually, we, ah, were tracking a different target when I heard you were in the area. I’m curious, you and… _it_. Are you still travelling together?”

He frowns, raindrops spilling from his hair to the slick pavement below. “Why do you care?” Illumi looks back at him almost innocently. Killua scowls in return. “I’m not telling you where she is.”

“Hmm.” Illumi sits back contemplatively. “You know, I took out five other hunters on my way here that were tailing you.” Killua looks up in surprise. “Yes. You must be losing your touch. Are you sure you don’t want some help?”

His expression sours. “I mess up _once_ , and _you-”_ , he huffs and crosses his arms, anger simmering under his tongue. “We’ve managed to avoid you and your ‘ _help’_ for the last six years.”

“Killua. You wound me.” Illumi’s face remains expressionless and wide-eyed. “Yet, it is nice of you to think that I would devote all my time to searching for you.”

“Hmph.”

He really shouldn’t be as upset as he is. Assassination might be his destiny according to his family, but that doesn’t mean he needs to be the best at it- right?

The body sits between them, cold and unmoving in Illumi’s arms.

“What was that you said about a message?”

“Hm? Now you want to know?” he crosses the dummy’s arms and feet and drops his toneless voice. “Come to dinner and we’ll talk.”

“…I’m not going to dinner just to get some message, Illumi.”

“No, that was the message. Father wants to talk.” He gestures at the dummy. “Was that not clear.”

Killua raises his eyebrow at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be like, a master of impressions? That’s nothing like Father.”

Illumi ratchets his head to stare at him. “Oh? And you can do better?”

He grabs the body and makes it flex its arms “Ugh, OH CHOSEN SON, ‘tis about time we discuss your future, perchance over dinner!”

“That’s not what he said at all.”

“Well it was better than- you know what, forget it. Tell him no.” He throws the body down and gets up to leave.

Illumi stares blankly as he walks away. “I think you misunderstand, brother. He will speak with you, dinner or no. We have… missed you.”

Killua flips him off as he walks away, bitterness boiling deep in his gut.

\---

The key sticks in the lock when he tries to turn it. He sighs and rattles it around again before pulling out his pick. The walk home had taken him three times as long, looping through a complicated route and even stopping at the airfield to throw Illumi and any other tails off his scent. He wasn’t going to let some little thing like a lock stop him now.

It makes a satisfying click as he scrubs the pick along the tumblers, and he twists open the door to his apartment.

“Killua? Is that you?”

He freezes at his sister’s voice. 

“Kil?” she pads in with her bunny slippers flopping on the carpet, a knife cleverly concealed behind her back just like he taught her. “Oh good, you’re back. Did you get milk?” She grins devilishly and flips the knife to her other hand.

His face morphs into an expression of disapproval. “No, I did not ‘get milk’. You’re the worst.” He brushes past her towards the kitchen.

“Couldn’t be bothered to stop by the grocery store on your way home, huh? Too bad, I was gonna make chocolate pudding.”

He glares at them as he opens the fridge and starts rummaging around for food as she chatters on about a school project she’s been working on all week.

Huh. They actually are out of milk.

“So, what took you so long?” she leans against the counter, placing the knife down in favour of examining her nails. Some of her friends at school had taught her nail art- she was sporting miniature pandas on her fingertips now. Killua closes the fridge and focuses on the one on her thumb as he tries to think of an excuse that isn’t “ _I was avoiding hunters all afternoon because, get this, I’m killing for hire again and fucked up the last job by sticking around. Oh yeah, and remember our crazy brother, Illumi? He’s back in town and says hi.”_ He picks at the sticker on an apple he managed to find in their poorly stocked fridge.

“Uh, you know, took the scenic route.” He bites into the apple as she frowns over at him.

“You’re making that face- what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Scrunching up his nose, he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue. “What, this face?”

Nanika blinks up at him and claps her hands, giggling, but Alluka shoves her back down with a scowl.

“No fair! Kil, come on, something’s wrong, what is it?”

“Nothing! I had a great day.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She squints at him, unconvinced, but he glares back with more intensity and takes another bite. If he stares hard enough, he knows she’ll break and laugh if off-

They both jump when his phone buzzes. Snatching it up, he swipes the screen to reveal a message from Gon.

_19:43: Hi Killua! Did you make it home alright?_

Smiling, he starts typing out a reply, but stops when he hears Alluka snicker.

“What?”

“You’re blushing,” she grins, “Is that your boyfriend?”

He scoffs as she laughs at him, shoving himself away from the counter.

“Hey! Where are you going? What about dinner?”

“Order something. I’m going to my room.” She giggles and opens her mouth to tease him more but stops when he turns and glares at her. “Don’t- just, ugh. Goodnight.”

When he’s safe behind his bedroom door, he tentatively rubs at his cheeks. They’re not that warm. Alluka must be seeing things. He opens up the text again, this time typing back a quick “ _yep_ ” before sending it and flopping back on his bed, still piled high with clothes from the night before. There were more important things for him to worry about than what Gon was thinking right now.

Closing his eyes, he frowns as images of his sister’s concerned face pop up in his mind instead. It was getting harder to lie to that face. Their getaway kit is stowed under his bed, along with a timetable of airship departures. Hesitantly, he reaches down and pulls up the flight list. If his father is really back in town…

His phone buzzes again, making him drop the sheet. Swearing under his breath, he glares at the screen before giving in and swiping it open.

_19:50: What r u doing rn?_

Sighing, he starts typing out “trying to sleep” but doesn’t finish. He almost drops it when the next text comes in with a winky face. He stares at his phone incredulously. _Why was Gon texting him stuff like this?_

His face hot, he looks over at his closed door, tapping the side of his phone. Should he play along? After one last look at the door to make sure Alluka won’t barge in, he types out his reply, biting his lip as he hits send.

19:52: nothing…why?

_19:53: bored :(_

19:54: Sounds like a you problem

_19:54: entertain meeee_

19:55: no

Killua smirks as he hits send. He can practically feel Gon squirming in his seat.

_19:56: aw come on :P_

_19:57: we had fun last night, right?_

He freezes, blood pumping in his ears. Did Gon have the right number?

19:59: …if you call a bar fight fun

_20:00: you know I do_

_20:00 hey do you work tmr?_

20:00: 8-1

20:00: why?

_20:03: you should come train with me after!_

_20:04: I have a match coming up soon_

_20:04: and the guy is fast like you_

_20:04: like lightning fast_

20:05: idk...

_20:05: I’ll buy you dinner first!_

There’s no denying the flush in his cheeks now. It feels like his face has caught on fire, and he rolls to his side clutching his phone like a lifeline. _Did Gon just ask him-_

_20:06: or like whatever, name your price!_

_Oh._ Maybe not.

After a moment’s hesitation, he types out a reply, reads it, deletes it, then types out a new one, staring long and hard at it before hitting send. The reply comes quick and he smiles softly before laying his phone beside him and staring up at the ceiling.

_They could stay here a little longer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (¬Φ_Φ)乂(｀_´ ) fun with bros™


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (٭°̧̧̧ω°̧̧̧٭)

 

Birds are calling out from the rooftops as he runs towards the address on his phone. He couldn’t be late for this- not after the whole thing at the bar…

Nervously, he tugs at the sleeves of his rumpled sports blazer, slowing to a brisk walk a block from the address. Maybe rolled up was too casual? He didn’t have time to grab anything else, so the printed tee underneath was already iffy…but it’s too late to change now.

The restaurant doesn’t look intimidating. In fact, it looks perfectly normal. A perfectly normal place to go for dinner with a friend.

_Just a friend._

Going with one friend didn’t suddenly make it a date, right?

Feet still and he takes a deep breath, checking out his reflection against a glass-lined skyscraper. Turning to the perfectly normal restaurant, he ignores the rising swell of flutters in his stomach.

There is a sickening number of couples sitting at the patio.

He can do this. He can DO this. Gon will understand, he won’t push him away-

He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone buzzes against his hip with an incoming call. Cursing, he glances quickly from phone to restaurant before answering with a burst of enthusiasm he didn’t know he had.

“Hey! I’m almost there! Is it the place with the red umbrellas?”

“-um, what?”

He stops. “…Alluka?”

“…Yeah?” she chuckles as dread floods his system. “Who did you think- wait, umbrellas? Are you meeting a date or something?”

Silence stretches over the line as a list of excuses runs through his head, but it’s broken by his sister’s laughter.

“YOU ARE! Oh my gods, who is it tell me tell me tell me!”

Swallowing against humiliation, he puts on his stern voice. “Alluka. Stop. I’m not telling you- and it’s not even a date- “

“AAH! It’s Gon, isn’t it!?”

“NO.” Leaning against the building he glances over the line of people at the entrance. There really is an abundance of couples. He blanches as one pair giggles and starts sucking face.

“It IS! Wait ‘til I tell Okuda, she’s gonna flip-”

“Ugh. I’m hanging up now.” He rocks forward on his heels, holding back bile as another couple passes by holding hands and staring deep into each other’s eyes. _Maybe he had the wrong address?_  

“No wait! Nanika wanted to say hi- “

“Really?”

“ _Hai!”_

“Hello, Nanika,” he grumbles, standing to the side of the line as yet another couple passes by, making weird faces at each other and gravitating closer together. His fingers absentmindedly pick at the stucco wall, tensing as the couple slings their arms together. “Did you have a good day?”

“ _Hai. Big brother too?”_

With practiced aim, he flicks a pebble and smirks as the girl yelps and jumps back from her date.

“Yeah, it was alright.”

“ _Nanika picked flowers for big brother!”_

“Oh? Thank you, Nanika. That’s very thoughtful of you.” A soft smile settles on his lips as he listens to Nanika giggle, scraping up a handful of rocks. “I can’t wait to see them.”

_“Brother home late?”_

He frowns, lining up another pebble at a roving hand, ducking low after firing. “Yeah, I’ll probably be home by ten.” _Bullseye._

“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist. I bet you’ll stumble in tomorrow morning.”

“Wh- _Alluka!_ You can’t just-”

“What? I’m just saying; I mean, evidence already points to you spending the night again-”

“We never- he’s not-”

“Look bro, I’m just calling like it is. We both know you like him. I’m, well, I’m happy for you.”

He scowls into the phone, scanning around for more targets. Maybe inside-

“ _Big brother scared?”_

“…no-that’s not- why would I be scared? He’s not-” he stops, spotting Gon up at the bar. A dark suit and tie ensemble stretches across his broad shoulders as he reaches for a wine glass. Killua swallows and ducks back, throat suddenly dry. Leaves rustle as he accidentally leans back into a nearby planter.

“Not what? Into you? You shouldn’t worry about it- I bet a whole chocolate cake he’s super into you too.”

“Shut up.” he mumbles.

“Are you blushing?”

“ _Shut UP_.” So what if his cheeks are a little warm _._

“WEEELLL, I could keep you longer, but you’re _obviously_ in a rush to go meet your lover. Don’t keep him waiting!” Laughter from Nanika peals through the speaker.

“I swear, Alluka-” a beep interrupts his threat as the line disconnects. He scowls as a pair points and giggles at him, crouched and uh, definitely not hiding behind a planter…

_Hm._

Well then. Taking a deep breath and pocketing the rocks left in his hand, he stands up, startling yet another couple at a nearby table before sliding his gaze over to where Gon is perched at the bar.

 _That suit really does look good-_ he shakes his head. Right. _Friend._

Before he can change his mind, he pushes past the couples towards the bar, sweating a little as he gets closer.

Gon glances up at his approach, setting the wine glass on the bar. _Since when did Gon drink wine?_ Was he trying to be classy or something? Weren’t they just grabbing a friendly dinner? Discussing training strategies?

The other grins and waves back at him.

Coughing on nothing, Killua’s hand stalls mid-wave before dropping behind his hair, suddenly self conscious. A pebble clatters to the floor with the movement and he stares at it with a mute horror before peeking back up at Gon. His spiky-haired friend stares back, amused.

A quick scuffle of his foot sends the rock under the bar.

“Um. Hi! Sorry I’m late, I just, uh, traffic-” He waves frantically for the bartender, quickly scanning over the many bottles on the wall as he hops up on a stool. Should he get wine too? Drumming his fingers against the obsidian counter top, his nose scrunches at the thought of it. _Too much like family…_

A hand clutches his wrist, stopping Killua’s breath for a second. Chocolate-colored eyes meet his own as Gon grins and puts a finger to his lips. Suddenly, his tongue feels heavy as it tangles around something like words. Eyes dart around his friend’s face in question, unsure where to land.

Hesitantly, he pulls up his nen, wondering if Gon wants to train here and now-

Gon stands and lightly tugs him closer, sliding his hand down to interlock their fingers, smile never leaving his lips.

His mind short-circuits at the close contact, but the feeling doesn’t last as Gon turns, tugging him along like a kite. Stuttering, Killua lets his spiky-haired friend lead him towards the private rooms in the back, thoughts of drinks and dinner flying out of head.  

Shadows dance on the walls of the cramped hallway, their footsteps muffled by red carpeting. The silence should be alarming, but the moment feels too fragile for Killua to break with words he can’t even think to form.

All he can focus on is the weight and pull at the end of his arm; calloused grip the only thing tethering him to reality. A pounding sensation is exploding from his chest so loud and fast he’s positive Gon can feel it through their connection, but maybe that’s muffled too. He doesn’t realize they’ve stopped until he feels his fingers slipping out of the other’s clutch.

It’s, cold.

Gon is knocking on a large wooden door, intricately carved with floral patterns and leaves. His large hand drops to the side as he waits, eyes glancing casually back to Killua.

Fingers twitch.

It wasn’t weird to want to reach out again, right?

Teeth worry against his bottom lip as he stares between Gon’s hand and his own. _Maybe…_

Before he can even brush fingertips, the door swings open. Biting his tongue, he follows his friend into the dimly lit interior, the door clicking shut behind him.

Shivers run down his sides as he peers around, eyes adjusting to the darkness. There aren’t any other couples. In fact, he can’t feel anybody else in the room, though there seems to be a low table to his left. Gon is still smiling at him, but not in a way he’s ever seen before. Despite his nerves, he finds himself smiling back, curious.

“…what?”

He can’t help a sharp intake of breath when the other plants a firm hand on his shoulder, shoving him against the door. A hand brushes his hair back carefully.

_Fuck. Maybe Alluka was right-_

_THUMP._

His eyes slide from the other’s strange grin to a dark spot just behind him. A dark spot that is, writhing. Towards them. Its shouts are muffled by an unseen barrier. Nudging his friend to the side, he tries to get a better look, just as the large body is sucked backwards into the darkness.

_Gon?_

“What the fuck-”

The double sighs in a voice that isn’t his own. “Oh, brother.” Reaching a hand up into his dark hair, he removes two thin needles capped with round golden tips. In seconds, Gon’s face puckers and melts, eyes growing wide and vacant as Killua’s stomach drops. Spikes flow into long, inky rivers of hair. Thin lips quirk up in the slightest of smirks.

Killua gags.

“ _Ah._ That’s much better.” his brother stretches, pulling out what looks dreadfully similar to Gon’s phone and placing it on the table. “I apologize for the surreptitious manner in which we brought you here, but after I discovered you were also currently employed as a, caffeine dealer,” he retches, “well, I simply had to take matters into my own hands. You are not to return there.” The surrounding darkness swallows up an erected finger as he leaves, the command echoing through his mind.

Static rage fills Killua’s head, but his limbs won’t respond. Eyes wide, he looks down at his shoulder. A giant needle protrudes from it, pinning him to the door. Curses ready on his tongue, he opens his mouth, but a deep rumble interrupts him.

“Killua. How kind of you to join us. Come, sit with Father. We have much to discuss.”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> (ц｀ω´ц*)  
> What? You give me an evil shapeshifter and expect me not to use him?  
> Next chapter in a few days (○｀ε´○)／＼(○｀ε´○)  
> Thanks for reading!


	8. 8)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dad talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh been making some edits recently, you may have noticed, wouldn't be surprised if this one gets changed later too, but I'm okay with it at this particular moment in time I guess?  
> ♥♦♣

 

 

“Killua. There’s no call for violence. Put that down and take a seat.”

Chest heaving, Killua lowers the needle, grinding his teeth as a heavy throb of pain shoots through his shoulder. The dark corner of the room Illumi disappeared to grows smaller as he steps toward the voice, nails digging into his palms. Limbs won’t work the way he wants them to, legs folding under as he drops onto the cushion offered by Silva.

Candlelight glints off the orb of the needle. His fingers curl around it awkwardly, opening against his will over the low table. It bounces once before rolling to a stop on the wooden surface.

“Let me look at you, my son.” Killua straightens, head whipping up to face Silva’s stern expression. The broad man is sitting in his classic cross-legged, arms folded position, but the hint of a smile ghosts across his features as he appraises Killua.

“It has been too long. You have grown! Tell me, what have you learned in your travels?”

Killua’s tongue is leaden in his mouth as he runs through his most recent kills. Mentally, he prepares himself, gathering up nen and focusing on the wound in his shoulder, trying to drive out the residual energies from his brother.

“Mm. You have done well for yourself.”

Killua nods impassively, focus elsewhere, but looks up abruptly when Silva clears his throat.

“You know son, I’ll admit I had my doubts when you ran off with your sister, but when Illumi told me you were killing your way to the top of the market here in the city, I knew. I knew I had put my faith in the right son, even after all these years.”

He ducks his head, shifting awkwardly on the cushion under the unexpected praise. _There’s no way he’s top of the market yet- maybe near it, but not the top…_

“Your subtlety requires some work of course, but yes, you’ll make a fine heir.” 

_What-_

“Father.” A low voice interrupts his thoughts. _Fuck._

“Illumi. Good. We can start now.” Silva turns and pulls out a briefcase, riffling through its contents.

Killua scowls as the despicable excuse he wishes wasn’t a brother takes a seat. His outfit has been changed, but it looks slightly dishevelled.

“Where is he?” Killua grits out between clenched teeth.

Illumi slides a blank stare his way, the corner of his mouth twitching up almost imperceptibly in amusement. “Who?”

A fresh swell of rage rises within him and his muscles tense, poising to attack-

“Ah, here we go. Come, take a look at these.” Five manila folders are pushed their way.  

Illumi calmly picks one from the pile and slides another at Killua. He glares before swiping it up. Tearing open the package, Killua skims through the order, throwing dirty looks over the papers.

He’s met with only vacant concern, descending into empty disapproval.

Still glaring daggers, he slides a hand into his pocket. A pebble bounces harmlessly off his brother’s forehead, just as pain erupts through his own. Illumi rolls his eyes.

They’re interrupted by a long sigh from Silva.

“Seems like just yesterday you two were hiding your first bodies.”

 _Was that a sniffle?_ Illumi exchanges a confused glance with him.

“Do you remember your first kill, Killua? Your mother still has a scrapbook of it somewhere, I think-”

“Oh _darling_ , you simply must bring it out and show me sometime♣”

Silva’s eyes narrow and he grumbles at the new voice. “Your… _clown_ seems to have escaped, Illumi.”

Cold dread sinks through Killua’s bones. 

_No…_

“♠It’s _Hisoka_ , daddy dearest♥” The jester drags something dark and heavy forward by one of his invisible gum threads. Killua’s eyes snap to the still figure.

_That’s-_

Illumi raises his head. “Oh. Do you need anything, Hisoka?”

“Mm, no, I was just getting bored in that tiny room, all _alone_ , without _you_ ♥”

 _-Gon!_ Paper crinkles in his grip. He glares at his brother, who’s cheeks have been tinged light pink.

“Hmp.” Disapproval is etched across his father’s face. “Anyways-”

Hisoka smirks, fingering a stack of untouched plates. “You did always teach him to go for the jugular, right Silva? He must have misheard ♠.”

“As I was saying-”

“♦ I’m not really known for my juggling skills, but _my_ , if it means I get to suck your son’s Zol-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH, CLOWN.”

Illumi is face-palming in the corner as Hisoka juggles plates under Silva’s red-faced glare.

Killua tunes them out as he subtly checks over Gon’s motionless form. _He’s not-_

Gon stirs, groans muffled by a nen gag as Hisoka steps over him. Hands and feet appear bound together, restricting his movements, but Killua still mentally sighs in relief. He can probably carry him out through the door they came in if he works fast enough, if his limbs would only _move_ -

“…any expert knows veins are slow- I taught him to go straight for the heart-”

“♥ _Well_ what can I say, it worked ♥.” Hisoka blows a kiss in Illumi’s direction, deftly catching the plates one-handed as he plants a foot on the body beside him. Pushing himself up, he sits up on the table beside Killua, who stiffens at the close proximity.

“Illumi. Control your fool.” Silva grumbles.

Illumi removes the hand from his face, expressionless as ever. “Stop. Don’t. Police.” he drones. Hisoka snickers.

Alarmed, Killua flicks a glance up at the jester. He’s met with a toothy grin. _Shit._

“My, my, Illumi, you failed to mention how much your little brother has _grown_ ♣.” He shivers as the jester eyes him up. “Mmm, what a _snacc_ you are-” Killua recoils as Hisoka flicks his tongue out and runs it along his lips, leaning closer.

“ _I will literally kill you._ ”

They look up to see Illumi’s sinister aura flare out. A darker glow backs it, Silva’s ominous presence behind him.

Hisoka smirks.

“Ah, _there_ it is. Alright _Dad_ , please continue ♠.”

Silva coughs, trying to reclaim some composure, slipping a stony mask back over his features. “This is a family matter, clown. You would do well to crawl back to whatever hole you came from.”

“Mm, kinky ♥. But no.” He drapes across the table. “This one has been dominating the workplace lately. I want to hear exactly what he plans to do next ♠.”

Killua flinches at the sudden attention, staring blankly at the three of them before remembering the folders.

Gon shifts on the floor, blinking and looking disoriented and confused. Killua coughs.

“...Right. The contracts look like they’re all in order. No uh, mistakes that I noticed.”

He flips through the one he has quickly, but his eyes wander back to Gon. He’s met with a puzzled expression.

_Well, he had planned on telling him, just not like this…_

Breathing out nervously, he tries to remember the gist of what he actually read in the files. “But, uh, we should try to complete these two first, otherwise we lose payments.”

He tries to shoot Gon a reassuring smile, but trains his eyes back to Silva, not wanting to seem too distracted. Hisoka grins, stretching his foot out to poke at Gon while maintaining eye contact the entire time. His captive searches Killua’s face, amber eyes questioning.

Illumi clears his throat. “Mm, Kil, I don’t know. The numbers on the Karpetian one seemed high. Might require some extra, _convincing_ , afterwards.”

“Oh, they’re good ♦.” Hisoka interjects, smirking at Killua. “They happen to have come into good money recently-remember, darling? ♥” he purrs at Illumi.

“Hm? Oh, right. Killua, didn’t you murder their main rival last week?”

He stiffens. _They didn’t have to say it like that-_

Silva hums in approval. “Mm. That was the one you choked with his right hand’s arm, correct? An impressive feat, my son.”

“I’m particularly fond of the one he gagged with a teaspoon. Simply _inspired_ , darling ♣.”

“We can’t forget the entire faction he wiped out last month. Not bad for one night out.”

Killua smiles and nods along to the praise, not denying any of the kills. _Illumi certainly had been thorough in his research._ He’s actually quite proud of the teaspoon one- there had been a request for no blood _and_ no visible wounds on that order, and he still managed to fill all the requirements. Hesitantly, he glances down at Gon.

Betrayal has descended over Gon’ features, brow pinched together in an expression Killua can only interpret as… _disgust? Anger?_

Deep in his heart, he knows it’s a rejection.

It doesn’t matter. Killua retracts as Gon lets out a muted string of furious vocalizations, forcing his eyes down at the table instead. He grits his teeth in a fake smile as the other’s compliments wash over him, blurring the world into a swirl of shadow and white noise.

Eliza was wrong. Alluka was wrong.

He was wrong.

Gon didn’t want him. He didn’t understand.

He knew he never really had a shot in the first place- but it stings all the same.

“Alright, my sons. Let us meet tomorrow at 01:00 hours by the boatyard. We should be able to complete all of these before we run out of darkness.”

Killua nods, breath shaky. “Okay.”

Gon is still struggling to shout at him through the nen covering Hisoka has placed over his mouth. Killua shrinks away from the angry outburst, turning back only when he hears a yelp of pain.

Gon writhes against the ground, distress stamped on his face. Hisoka’s foot is poised above his head.

“Hmp. You should really take your kill elsewhere, jester. They are a distraction.”

“Mm, this one isn’t for killing ♦.” Hisoka drags a squirming Gon up into his lap and runs a hand down his bloody cheek, coming to rest under his throat. Killua tenses, helplessly balling up his fists as his friend struggles. “We have big plans for him.”

The jester doesn’t even flinch when Gon drives an elbow deep into his side and Killua hears a crack.

Illumi cocks his head at the pair. “We are planning on dropping him soon though, right?”

“♠-” Hisoka pauses to cough up some blood, holding up a finger on his free hand. “Ahem. Yes. After I’ve had my fun, of course.”

Illumi smiles. “Good. I already have a building picked out.”

“ _Don’t_ -”

Something damp hits his thigh. Frowning, Killua looks down. Hesitantly, he unclenches his fists, nails retracting. Eyes burn and prick at the corners, but he takes a deep breath and shoves down against his feelings. _Not here._

Silva is gathering folders back into his briefcase, purposefully turning away when Hisoka dumps Gon on the floor to help him.

His brother unfolds from the cushions, stretching high to crack his spine. Eyes glitter as he slides closer. “Careful, Killua. You can’t go showing weakness on the job.”

Hisoka snorts in laughter from the other end of the table as Silva looks with disgust at a playing card stuck to his chest. Hauling a struggling Gon back up, the jester throws an arm around his captive’s resisting shoulders.

He can’t bring himself to meet Gon’s eyes.

“♦ Alright, daddy dearest, if that’s all we’ll be going now. Call me, love you! ♥”

Silva grunts as the clown passes with a struggling Gon in tow, shoulders visibly relaxing once he’s left the room.

He’s not sure, but he could swear he hears Silva exhale “ _why him?”_ under his breath. Ripping the playing card off, Silva tosses it to the ground with a sigh before turning to face them again.

“Oh, Killua. Before you go, I have something for you.”

He slides over a stack of business cards. It looks like their standard set, advertising the family business as professional assassins, only-

He stops, reading over the bottom line again.

_Zoldyck & Son_

He flicks his gaze back to a beaming Silva. Illumi’s presence is a vague chill at his back, face dark as he picks up a card.

“Well? Feels right, doesn’t it? You and I can finally team up and continue the family tradition. It will be good to give your grandfather a break. Give those out to prospective clients if you like.” 

He smiles expectantly. Killua stares back blank-faced, fingers tightly gripping the card, before sighing in defeat and rasping out “Sounds… great.”

Silva beams. “Excellent! I’ll see you later, son.” Picking up the rest of his things, he nods at the general space beside him. “Illumi.”

“Father.” His brother nods back, subtly pocketing a card. A crease disrupts his typically unfluctuating forehead.

Killua waits patiently until the door clicks shut before turning to glare at his brother.

“Alright. I talked to Father and agreed to the fucking contracts. Give him back”

Illumi’s pensive contemplation quirks into a devious grin. “Ha, why should I? We're having such fun together.”

Killua’s blood seethes. “Just let him go, Illumi. I promise I’ll go easy on your boyfriend.”

“Oh, Kil, you know that’s a fight you could never win.” He laughs, leaning in closer to gloat. “Besides, it looked like your “ _friend_ ” wasn’t too keen on you after all.”

Killua ducks his head, heart stinging. “Yeah, well,” he searches for something to throw at his brother, physically or emotionally. “…fuck you.” He snatches up the large needle and stabs backwards, but Illumi’s thin hand catches his wrist with ease, pain firing through his mind. A clatter echoes around the room, needle rolling to a stop in a corner.

Illumi levels him with a menacing stare, fluidly dragging him off the ground. His feet twitch, dangling just above the floor.

“Hm. _Go home,_ Killua. I think it's time that thing you call a sister joined our little family reunion.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I should probably update tags to include Hisoka, shouldn't I?  
> wow what a mess I've made. Welp.  
> Reading. Thank you for that. I'm going to sleep now.


	9. NEIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh I don't know what this is anymore but I kind of love it. Plot is hard.

 

_SMACK._

Killua jolts awake. It’s cold, and murky. A stinging pain roughly hand-sized radiates from his cheek.

_Why is he standing?_

Limbs burn like he’s just used Godspeed. He blinks, gasping in stale but familiar air, trying to focus, breath catching when he hears her.

“…the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Wake UP Killua!” Alluka pushes his chest, making him stumble back, nearly falling onto her desk.

“Woah! I’m awake, I’m awake! What the hell-” He holds up his arms as a shield, quickly taking in her room. It looks like a tornado has torn through everything; clothes are tossed everywhere, books lie askew on every available surface, and one unfortunate mug of tea is smashed and leaking on the floor while five half-empty ones quiver together on the desk.

“You really need to clean your room.”

She sputters at him, picking up a book and throwing it at his head. “No! You don’t come in and scare me like that and then just- my room is FINE! What the hell was that, Killua?!”

“What do you mean- how did I even get here?” He catches the book just before it hits the mugs, shooting her a confused glare.

“You were just, staring! I woke up and you were standing there, like some robot. Right, there.” She points at a spot about a foot away from her bed, finger shaking. “Nanika almost…” she shudders, faltering, clearly upset about the near miss. “I recognized you in time. But Killua, what the fuck?”

His stomach clenches. _Illumi_. The last thing he remembers is his brother and a needle…

_Shit. Not again._

Very carefully, he reaches up, fingers entering the blood-speckled forest of his pale hair. Throbbing in a space just under his skull, he can feel it, a dull pang seeping like a fog through his mind, blurring his thoughts. Controlling them. Controlling him.

“…are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks.

“No! I mean, I’m fine. You scared me. But Killua, you’ve been acting weird all week, and then, _this_.” She waves her hands around at his general area, sucking back a sob. “What’s going on?”

An image of Gon’s betrayed face flashes into his mind, _but she wouldn’t-_ “I, I can’t-”. He steps back, moving towards the door when a splitting pain pulses through his skull, stopping him in his tracks, a shout breaking from his lips.

“Killua!” Alluka rushes to his side, hauling him up from the floor. _When did he get down there?_

“I’m okay,” He brushes Alluka off, sitting up on his own. “I just, need a minute.”

“You’re obviously NOT okay, Killua. Let me look at you, maybe Nanika can fix it-”

“No!” She flinches at his outburst, fixing him with a hurt look before her face shifts, Nanika surfacing.

“ _Brother okay?_ ”

He doesn’t reply, staring ahead blankly instead. All his focus is on the pinch at the front of his mind, carefully keeping it at bay, staying above it. Beside him, several books get displaced as Nanika pushes aside a pile of clothes. Warmth plasters his side as she hugs him.

“I, I’m fine, Nanika. Don’t worry about me.”

She frowns, lifting a hand to point at his forehead.

“ _Not brother.”_

“What?” He turns to face her, breaking his concentration for a moment.

“ _Not brother.”_ She repeats, more insistent this time. “ _Feels different.”_

“Oh.” He can feel himself slipping back under, the ethereal command of ‘ _stay’_ vaguely entering his consciousness.

 _Stay_. Stay sounds good. Stay sounds safe. He could stay.

The room slumps sideways as Nanika studies him. He scrunches up his nose at the odd sensation of something else rummaging through his mind.

Bizarre images flash through his headspace. The dapple of sunlight through trees. Lights running along a telephone wire. The glint of a needle in a dark room. A smile as bright and warm as the sun… _but he doesn’t deserve to look, he belongs to the shadows…and there he should stay…_

A trickle of sweat crawls down his forehead, burning as it hits his eye. _If she can’t find it-_ Outside, a shadow passes over the window. The absence of footsteps thuds like an alarm below the dull fog of pain in his head.

_He’s here-_

He shakes himself. “Nanika. I need you to take Alluka away from here.” He struggles to stand, wincing as his head spins.

Nanika blinks up at him, confused.

“Come on, we need to go, now!”

_“Brother go too?”_

“No, there’s no time-” he hauls her up, pulling her towards his room. The getaway kit is right where he left it. Nanika stumbles under the new weight.

“ _No-_ ”

A gust of frigid air pushes down the hall. _None of their windows were open._

“There’s no time, Nanika. I fucked up," He wraps his jacket around her small shoulders. Through the pale dusk of the hall, the shadows waver, rippling in the wake of _something_. "But I’ll fix it. Now go!” When she hesitates, he adds, "That's an order!"

Shadows spark up the walls as she frowns at him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was having a seizure. Her face flickers between Nanika and Alluka as they fight for control, an unheard conversation going on inside. Finally, she settles, black holes churning where eyes should be.

_“Hai.”_

He nods, forcing a smile. With a rush of air, silence replaces his sister, air pressure dropping in the room.

A chill enters. He grimaces up at his brother even as he burns, screaming, the feeling of razorblades and displeasure tearing through his skull.

 

 

\---

 

 

When he wakes, it’s to pitch-blackness. Chains encircle his wrists and ankles. A deep murmuring shuffles back and forth in a space beyond the walls. _Sounds like an argument_.

He sits up and almost screams when something silky brushes against his head. _Breathe. He can take whatever monsters Illumi has stuck in here…_ Swatting the air above, he finds that it’s only cloth. _Was fabric torture a thing?_ Broken chains littered behind him, he breathes out slowly, running a hand down his face.

Alluka was going to murder him.

The murmur continues, ebbing and flowing like the pain from the needle in his mind.

_Okay. Where is he?_

Peering around in the darkness, strange lumps and boxy shapes emerge as his eyes adjust. Quietly, he feels around. There are, shoes? Yeah, shoes in front of him. Reaching up, he feels more fabric, freezing at the soft jangle of hangers. He frowns, the scent of mothballs and detergent wafting down.

 _A closet?_ Illumi had no respect.

After taking care of the ankle cuffs, he shuffles forward on his hands and knees, silently moving towards a small horizontal sliver of gray that he assumes is the door.

The murmur grows louder, accompanied by thumping and a scraping. Gray becomes bright, and suddenly the door is opening. Light pours in as Killua scuffles back to slump under the hangers again.

_THUMP._

“-don’t fret, I’m putting him away, darling. ♥ Now, why don't you come over here and-”

“That doesn’t fix anything, Hisoka. And I know we agreed you could keep him, but Father will be here soon and I’m no closer-”

“♠ Mm, yes, impress daddy. You know, your daddy must be a baker-”

The door closes and Killua tunes out the rest, gagging at the thought of the clown and his brother.

A lumpy mass blocks the sliver of light from the doorway now. The silhouette of it moves slowly up and down, rasping breath shallow and staggered.

Carefully, Killua moves towards it, shadow sharpening into a more familiar shape as he gets closer.

Gon is lying on his side, knees curled into his chest. Dark splotches and scrapes mar his skin, barely illuminated by the light from under the door. His lip is split and bleeding, eyes covered in shadow.

Hovering, he worries at his own lip, staring at his injured friend. He catches his hand just before it reaches Gon’s shoulder, worry worming its way around his torso. Curling back, he presses against the closet wall.

He never wanted Gon to get caught up in this. He was a fool to have come to this city in the first place. _And now…_

Gon stirs, coughing abruptly. In a panic Killua clamps a hand over his friend’s cracked lips, quickly bringing a single finger up to his own, eyes darting to the door.

Gon squints up at him through the darkness, stilling with recognition. Despite his injuries, he still radiates like the sun, bright eyes cutting through the gloom. It burns, but Killua stays transfixed, caught in the light.

A muffled giggle from their captors breaks his contact. Turning his face away in shame, Killua withdraws his hands. _He doesn’t deserve to look._ Warmth fades from where he touched Gon’s lips, the clammy grip of numb misery pressing around his heart in its place. _If only he’d left sooner…_ but he knew it had never been in the cards for him to keep someone like Gon. He’d known it since the World Tree.

Nudging his knee, Gon looks up at him from the floor. “ _Mmph!_ ”

“ _What?"_  he whispers.

Gon shakes his linked fists at him, insistent. “ _Mhmp!”_

 _Oh._ Using gyo, he can see the nen bonds still trapping his friend. _He could at least fix that…_

Gon struggles to sit up, nearly knocking into a shoe rack.

“ _SHHH_ not so loud, idiot. Here-” Shifting, he manoeuvres his friend’s large form up to sit across from him before crossing his own legs.

He eyes up the bonds. The mouth seems like the simplest-

He looks away quickly, cheeks heating up as a soft moan comes from beyond the closet. _Nope._ He knew dangerous territory when he saw it.

Gon sits patiently, apparently unaware what the noises outside mean. Or maybe he’s just ignoring them. As Killua hovers, uncertain, Gon frowns, quirking his head at him in question. “ _Mph?”_ He shoves at his knee with his feet.

Feet. Feet were safe. Right?

Tentatively, he places a hand on Gon’s shin, leaning closer for a better angle. With his other hand, he prods at the bond. _Doesn’t look too difficult_. Sharpening his nails to points and charging up, he slashes down.

With a blur and a _crack_ , Killua’s jaw is driven upwards into his skull. Gon rolls back, free but guilty feet withdrawing.

“ _WHAT THE FUCK_ ” he hisses. He clutches at his chin, teeth ringing.

“ _MMPH!”_ Tears are streaming down Gon’s cheeks as he rolls to his side. He sucks in a breath through his nose, gripping his ankles in pain. Fixing Killua with a gritty stare he mumbles angrily, gag impeding whatever insults he’s hurling his way.

“ _WELL_ _I’M_ _SORRY!”_ Frowning, he rubs at his sore chin. Doesn’t feel like it’ll bruise, but it still smarts. _Not that he didn’t deserve it…_

Gon rolls onto his side, hands covering his face, breathing pained and unsteady. After a second he seems to regain some composure and pushes himself back up, holding his bound wrists out, determined.

Killua scowls before roughly grabbing his friend’s calloused hands, pushing his own pain to the back of his mind. He focuses his gyo on the bond. _It shouldn’t have hurt that bad_ …

Running a thumb over it though, it feels deep. Carefully, he lets his fingers drift over Gon’s knuckles, shifting down to his forearm, feeling for the sticky nen.

 _There._ It doesn’t quite reach to the bone, but it’s in there. _Shit._ No wonder it hurt. His fingers rub small circles over Gon’s wrists, testing the bond for weak points. _Maybe if he cut slower this time?_

“Okay. This'll probably hurt again, I, uh _-”_ he stops. Gon is staring at him, fixated, pupils dark. Under his fingers, Gon’s pulse rabbits. “Um. P-prepare yourself." He ducks his head.

Fabric scrapes against carpet as Gon repositions himself closer, gently nudging Killua when he’s ready.

His face is ready to melt. _Okay._ Breathe _._ Just remember to breathe.

Raising a sharpened finger, he’s about to make the first slice when he remembers. Placing a firm hand over Gon’s clasped fists, he whispers, “Don’t go punching me now.”

He’s rewarded with a grin, though a look akin to fear flashes over Gon’s face before he steels himself, nodding.

Frowning with concentration, Killua starts sawing with deft, careful strokes into the tacky nen. Gon keels forward, biting back a shout as the bond rips apart.

“ _Shhh_ , almost through-”

Killua catches him as he rocks forward, clutching at his forearms. Soft spikes of dark hair brush past his ear as Gon buries his face into his shoulder, hot breath hitting his neck as he pants, whimpering softly behind the gag. There’s a brief flash of pain when Gon’s broad shoulder grazes his chin, but he reangles his head quickly, breath hitching. _He’s so close…_

For a moment, he wonders if he’s dreaming. _Not that he’s ever had dreams about Gon-_ He wraps his arms around him, tentatively tapping at his back just to make sure he’s solid and real. Gon whines softly, pressing closer, arms crossed and tense against his chest as he fights the pain.

“It’s okay. I, I’ve got you.”

After what feels like an eternity, Gon shifts back, awkwardly patting Killua’s chest with a free hand. Killua nods briskly, heart hammering against his ribs so loud he’s sure Hisoka or Illumi will be able to hear it. For once, he hopes they’re still distracted. A low moan confirms his hopes seconds later. _Ugh._

Gon rubs at his sore wrists. _They have to get out of here._

Killua scuffles to his feet, moving uncomfortably along the walls of the narrow closet. There has to be some other way out.

He shifts past more shoes and clothing, shelves he can’t climb without breaking, boxes of weird rubbery things he shoves back quickly, finds a vent about the dimensions of a king-size chocolate bar, and startles his own reflection before he turns back to Gon.

The idiot’s trying and failing to wrap his wrist with a sock he must have found on the ground.

Plucking a shirt noiselessly off a hanger, Killua makes quick work of slicing it into neat ribbons. He drops the pile of strips at Gon’s feet, who looks up in surprise.

“Um. Use those instead.” Gon nods. Picking up one of the strips, he starts wrapping his wrist while Killua settles back down, resting his head on his hands to watch. “It looks like the door is our best option, unless we want to take out a wall. Which, no.” Gon grins, eyes still on his hands. He allows himself a small smile. “I’ll pick the lock. If we can make it past without them noticing, we'll be home free.” Tucking the end of the scrap in loosely, Gon hums in affirmation, glancing back up.

His neck aches at the speed with which he turns from staring, closet impossibly more claustrophobic than it was a second ago. _Where should he even look?_

A foot enters his vision. He frowns before flinching, a ribbon of fabric hitting his head. When he lifts the scrap in question, Gon is gesturing from his wrapped wrist to his foot and pointing at Killua.

 _Ah._ He could do that. Taking Gon’s foot into his lap, he grabs one of the scraps from the floor and starts wrapping it efficiently around his friend’s ankle. He slows as he comes to the end. There are bruises and scrapes he knows aren’t from the bond. Breathing out unsteadily, he holds his hand out for the other foot.

The silence feels stifling, guilt stacking down on him as he covers Gon’s wounds. _He’d been such an idiot-_ “When we get out of here remind me to punch Hisoka in the face. And Illumi-you know what I’ll just beat the shit out of both of them.”

 _There._ He ties one last knot into the dressing, adjusting it so it lies as flat as possible. Gon is silent, staring at Killua with an expression he can’t read. The makeshift bandage on his right hand is only half complete.

Killua shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. “Is it too tight?”

Fabric corkscrews off Gon’s wrists as he jolts to attention, shaking his hands and giving two thumbs up. The bandages fall to the floor.

He snorts. “You really suck at knots.”

Gon’s eyes widen comically. Feigning injury, he dramatically pushes back before catching Killua’s eye and breaking into muffled laughter. Killua sniggers. Can he really help it? Gon’s laughter has always been infectious.

Smiling, he takes Gon’s hands. Gently, he re-wraps the bandages, careful to avoid applying too much pressure. When he gets to the end, he tucks the last knot in, smoothing it against his skin.

“There, that should do it-”

Fingers tangle in his own as he lifts his hand away. He looks up in surprise.

Gon jolts, releasing him as if grabbing his hand had been an accident. Turning, he looks over Killua’s work, flipping his hands back and forth, flexing to test that it won’t come undone. Seemingly satisfied, he nods briskly and gives a thumbs up.

_Okay…_

Getting up, Killua turns to the door, hiding his blush. _Right. Lock time._ Locks were simpler. Locks didn’t turn your insides into a quivering mess with a single look-

A quick peek out the keyhole has him almost retching. There's no way they're sneaking past Hisoka and Illumi anytime soon. "You know, the wall might actually be a better option. We might be stuck here for a while..."

He's interrupted by Gon clearing his throat. When he turns around, his friend is pointing sheepishly to his mouth. It takes Killua a second to realize he’s asking him to remove the gag, eyes lingering for longer than they should on long lashes and bruised lips.

His mouth goes dry.  _Dangerous territory, the face._ Eyes fly uncertainly to his escape route- um, the door.

“You sure?”

Gon nods.

 _Well, if he was sure…_ It's not like he had anything better to do. Taking a deep breath, he sits back down.

Gon sits up straighter as he twists closer, eyes carefully following his movements. Raising a hand, he pokes at Gon's cheek. It's a little warm, maybe a bit feverish _..._ But that’s normal, right? Gon’s always had good circulation...

Before he can stop himself, he grabs his friend’s chin, tugging it side to side to examine the malleable nen. _A quick shock might be enough to break it, but if this was anything like the others…_

He frowns.  _How deep was it?_   Fingers trace over Gon’s cheeks, feeling along his stubbly jaw, coming to rest on his lips.  _If he could feel inside, maybe-_

He’s already slipped two fingers along Gon’s bottom lip, searching for an opening, when realization descends. Halting, he looks up.

Deep amber eyes meet his. His breath hitches.  _That's, close_. Almost playfully, Gon glances down at his fingers, a question behind the motion. He can’t seem to look away, pulse quickening, fingers sliding down.

Something like a challenge enters Gon’s expression. 

 _If he were to tilt his head a little, like, like this-_  _but Gon hated-_

A bandaged hand brushes up against his cheek, inviting him closer, cupping under his chiN-

He flinches back, wincing with pain.  _Fuck that hurt-_

Gon’s hand leaves his face and he shoots back, mumbling with apology and looking everywhere but Killua. Backing away, Gon shuffles on his hands and knees towards the door, tripping over shoes and blindly searching for the handle with panicked motions.

Killua is frozen, rubbing at his sore chin.  _What-_

There’s a deafening _CRACK_ and Gon finally looks back at him, door handle firmly in his grip. Or rather, half of the handle.

The soft moans and murmurings on the other side of the door cease. Deafening silence replaces everything.

_Shit._

He doesn’t even stop to think. Springing to action, Killua grabs Gon and drags him as far back into the closet as they can go. A second later the door is ripped from its hinges, blinding light flicking on from above.

“-darling please, they’re harmless-”

“I specifically TOLD you he was in that closet. And you just “accidentally” put your stupid toy in there too?”

“Oh Illu, I thought you meant figuratively! Besides, you know how distracting you can be, if you weren’t so powerful-”

 “Just because you can’t control your- ah, there they are.”

Killua tugs a stunned Gon closer to his chest, staring up at the bickering couple like he would a pair of predators. Illumi looks like he’s haphazardly thrown on a random oversized sweatshirt and pair of boxers, hair a mess. Hisoka, on the other hand- Killua averts his eyes, involuntarily bringing a hand up to cover Gon’s.

“See love? ♦ They aren’t going anywhere.”

The corners of Illumi’s mouth tighten. It’s the closest thing to a frown Killua has ever seen on his brother’s face. “Don’t push it, _love_.”

He sticks a hand out, reaching past a skeleton to grab a couple of pins off one of the shirts hanging up. Purple nen sparks and dances over the needle heads. Hisoka watches from against the door jam with curiosity, snatching up a pair of sweatpants from the floor using bungee gum.

Killua’s back presses harder into the wall.

“Stay back!”

“ _Killua_.” Illumi’s eyes take on a hypnotic quality. “ _Drop it._ ”

He finds his grip loosening on Gon, Illumi’s voice echoing through his mind. _No-_

When he tries to tighten his hold, pain burns through his mind. Gon slides to the floor, head turning in surprise.

“Good. Now, _come._ ”

“No!” He stands, dying, fists curling as his mind burns. “I’m not your puppet, Illumi.”

His brother’s eyes narrow, nen flaring up. “No. But you will be if you don’t _come here."_

“Mmph!” Gon blocks Illumi, hands out.

Illumi sighs, bringing a hand up to his temples. “Hisoka, would you kindly remove your pet?”

The jester grins. “Anything for you, darling.” One bungee gum thread later and Gon yelps, legs caught out from under him as he’s dragged out. “Looks like someone’s been naughty...”

The last thing he sees before blackness and agony overtake him, is his fist connecting with Hisoka’s face.

 

 

 

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Do you know how hard it is to find a good closet fic these days? Couldn't find any to my liking for reference.  
> Anyways, final chapters are in the works, should go quicker now that exams are over. Thanks for reading, comment or kudos if you enjoy!


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